Spirits
by themuse123
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, Mason struggles to remember what it is she's living for. But sanctuary offers much in the way of options. (sequel to Heathens) eventual militant!Eugene CH. 9 up
1. Iridescent

Hello, all. So, I'm both nervous and excited to get this sequel started. I really have been looking forward to writing it, and I never thought I would get this far. The actual title is a reference to "Spirits" by The Strumbellas, which I have always thought was an amazing Walking Dead song. Anyway! Today's chapter title is "Iridescent" by Linkin Park, and if you haven't heard it it's a really beautiful, inspirational song that I think fits perfectly with this episode/chapter. Let me know what you think.

1\. Iridescent

Mason looked up from her grimy hands and shook her head. Eugene regarded her silently, unsurprised. Defeated. Numbly she pushed herself to her feet and led the way out of the woods.

Halfway to the road, three walkers cut across their path. She took them down in five seconds, splattering both Eugene and herself with gore. Neither of them cared. Like her, he was already covered in sweat and dirt and old blood.

The others waited by the van, all of them as pitiful and feral as Mason and Eugene. Rick looked up as they approached, but Mason shook her head. Daryl, Maggie and Sasha had already returned from their scouting. Clearly they hadn't found any either.

They settled down side by side on the pavement, staring into empty space. It had been a day and a half since any of them had found water, and they were down to their last bottles. The days were hot and unforgiving. All the streams they'd come across were shriveled veins.

Rick, Carol and Glenn went over the map for the fortieth time, and just like every time before they said the same thing.

"I guess we'll just follow the highway until we find something."

It was almost funny.

Find what?

~m~

The van whined to a stop.

"We're out," Abraham said. "Just like the last one."

"So we walk," Rick replied.

Lifelessly, everyone exited the car.

The heat was oppressive, oven-hot and muggy as a sauna. The sky was scorching blue. Cloudless.

No one spoke as they forged ahead. The sun beat them into silence.

After a while, walkers caught their scent and began trailing after them, but they were far enough away that they didn't pose a threat. The group certainly wasn't in any shape to take them on anyway.

Daryl and Carol disappeared around noon to look for water, but Mason knew they wouldn't find any. It seemed obvious to her that this was it. This was the end. But she didn't say this out loud.

When they reached the bridge, Rick stopped.

"This is it," he said. "This is where we make our stand."

He, Glenn and Michonne lined up on the left side of the bridge, Abraham, Sasha and Maggie on the right. Mason led the others across to guard them while they waited.

When the walkers came, they started off taking them one by one. They didn't fight. They waited at the edge of the bridge until the walkers came close enough, then stepped aside to let them fall into the gully.

It might've worked until every last one of them was dead, but Sasha had other plans. She advanced into the flood of walkers, grabbing one by the throat and stabbing it in the head.

The others flanked her quickly, and Mason lurched to her feet, fire poker at the ready in case she was needed. Before she could rush in, however, Daryl and Carol appeared from the woods and descended into the fray. The tides turned. Soon every walker was dead.

The group shambled on.

~m~

They came across some abandoned cars about an hour later, but none of them were workable. Mason, Eugene and Tara swept one for supplies, but found nothing except old mail and a couple of crushed beer cans.

"We'll stop here for the night," Rick said. Nobody argued.

They made no fire. There was no dinner to eat. Everyone sprawled wherever they could, close enough together to stay safe, far enough apart that the body heat didn't stifle them.

Mason stuck as close to Eugene as possible. Three weeks since Beth and the nightmares had not let up. She was resigned to them, had become well-acquainted with them. They were old friends now. But without his presence she could not handle them, could not simply lie down and let them roll over her. Without him, she panicked.

Tonight was no different. She awoke with a foot of distance between them, one hand outstretched so that her pinky finger rested on his. Just seeing his face calmed her considerably, and after a minute her pulse evened completely.

Something moved in the trees.

The breath caught in her throat, panic returning so swiftly her vision blurred.

 _No. No. Not again. Not this._

Still she rose. She had to see. She had to.

"Mason?" Eugene murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

" _Shh._ "

"What are you doing?"

She ground her teeth, looking around to make sure they hadn't woken anyone.

"Just come with me," she hissed.

He followed her into the woods. Though he didn't move nearly as silently as she did, she appreciated that he was trying to make as little noise as possible.

Once they were some distance from the group, he whispered, "What is it that we're doing?"

"I thought I saw something."

Eugene stopped. She glared at him. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

"It's not like before," she said, and it wasn't. There was no evidence of anything celestial, no scent of rain. Still, her heart fluttered unevenly. "I just…I need to know what it is. If it's a person, we need to know. If it's a walker, I'll kill it."

After a moment, he nodded and drew his knife. "Okay."

Side by side they drew deeper into the woods. They saw nothing but Mason couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched…

A twig snapped behind them.

Mason whipped around, taking a protective stance in front of Eugene.

"What the hell are you two doin' out here?"

Daryl stepped out of the shadows and Mason relaxed her grip on her fire iron.

"I thought I saw someone out here," she said.

But Daryl didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were narrowed, flicking from her to Eugene, and there was animosity in them. Confused, she went on the defensive and glared back.

"C'mon," he growled. "Ya'll shouldn't be out here alone."

He led the way back to the camp, but once they were there Mason stopped. Eugene looked expectantly at her.

"I'll be there in a second," she said, and her voice brooked no argument.

When he was gone, she rounded on Daryl. "What is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," he said but she recognized his belligerent tone.

"Don't try to lie to me."

"Man, I ain't lyin'. I just think you goin' out with him late at night is a dumbass thing to do."

"I thought I saw someone. I needed to check it out."

"Yeah, but why take _him_ with you?"

"Because I didn't want him waking everyone else up."

Daryl snorted. "Right."

She stared. "What are you trying to say?"

"Man, I'm _sayin'_ ," he snarled, looming over her, "maybe you spend a little less time worrying over him. Jumpin' in front of him like you're his goddamn protector. He ain't shit. He would've let you die for him."

Stinging with outrage, she stepped forward until they were nose to nose. "Don't you _ever_ say that to me again," she hissed. "You don't know anything about him."

"I know he tricked you into becoming his bodyguard. I know he took you away from your _real_ family when they needed you. And maybe if you hadn't gone with him, Beth would still be alive!"

She slapped him hard enough to make her hand go numb. Tears burned a path down her cheeks. She stared at him in disbelief but he wouldn't look at her. Finally, without another word, she fled back to camp.

Eugene was waiting up for her. "Is everything okay?" he asked, but she just lay down next to him and buried her face in his chest. She didn't care about the stifling heat and he didn't care about the tears staining his shirt.

~m~

The next day was much of the same until they stopped to rest around noon. They sat at the edge of the road, silent, vacant. Abraham sipped from a fifth of whiskey.

"So all he found was booze?" Tara said.

"Yeah," Rosita said.

"It's not gonna help."

"He knows that."

"It's gonna make it worse."

"Yes, it is."

"He's a grown man," Eugene said. "And I truly do not know if things can get any worse."

Without looking at him, Rosita replied, "They can."

As though her words were a signal, the trees on the other side of the road rustled and out emerged five ragged, snarling dogs. It was clear they had once been pets- their collars and tags were evidence of that- but had long since reverted to their primitive nature.

Everyone tensed, drawing their weapons, but before anyone could move Sasha shot the beasts down.

After a moment, Rick nodded to himself and began assembling kindling for a fire.

They ate dog meat for lunch, the first food they'd had in days. They were too hungry to complain. Their faces were grimy and so, so tired.

Mason didn't miss it when Gabriel pulled the clerical collar from his shirt and tossed it in the fire.

She stared at the sky, where clouds had finally gathered but refused to give up their essence.

They were damned.

~m~

Hours later, as they were cresting a hill, they spotted something in the distance that reinforced the sandpaper ache in Mason's throat.

There were bottles of water in the road, more than enough for all of them. Attached was a note that read "From a friend" in plain black lettering. Mason glanced at Eugene and saw that he was thinking the same thing. What if she'd seen this "friend" last night?

Though everyone's eyes gleamed with thirst, no one took the bait. They milled around uncertainly, weapons ready, starkly conscious of their surroundings.

Finally, Tara spoke up. "What else are we gonna do?"

"Not this," Rick replied. "We don't know who left it."

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it," Eugene said. "But I for one would like to think it is indeed from a friend."

"What if it isn't?" Carol replied. "What if they put something in it?"

Without responding, Eugene grabbed one of the bottles and unscrewed the lid.

"Eugene! What are you doing?" Mason grabbed for the bottle but he swung away.

"Quality assurance."

He lifted it to his lips but before he could take a drink Abraham slapped the bottle away. Briefly his eyes met Mason's but she couldn't read the expression in them.

Rick glared sternly at Eugene. "We can't."

The sky rumbled.

They looked up as one.

And the rain started.

For a moment, everyone was too breathless with disbelief to react. Then Michonne and Carol began to laugh, and Tara and Rosita lay side by side on the ground with matching grins, and Rick and Carl began setting out bottles to catch the water in.

But Mason didn't move. Maggie didn't, Sasha didn't, Daryl didn't.

The four of them stood silent as the rain soaked washed them clean.

Lightning spidered above their heads. Thunder cracked. The smiles disappeared as the group became aware of the thunderhead moving angrily in their direction.

"Let's keep moving," Rick shouted over the noise.

Breaking from his trance, Daryl replied, "There's a barn. In the woods."

"Take us there."

~m~

The barn was small and took little time to clear. Rick, Glenn, Daryl and Michonne attempted to make a fire with what little wood they'd managed to snag, but it was too wet to do much more than flicker.

Mason and Eugene huddled down close by. With his sodden hair and clothes, he looked pitifully scruffy, and this put an unexpected lump in her throat.

"He's gonna be okay."

Mason blinked, thinking at first that Carol was talking to her, until she saw Rick glancing worriedly at Carl and Judith. They slept curled together in a pile of hay, looking more peaceful than any of the others.

"I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now," Rick said. "But I think I got it wrong. Growing up's getting used to the world."

"This isn't the world," Michonne said. Her expression was sharp with agitation. Ghosts flickered in her eyes. "This isn't it."

"It might be," Glenn said quietly.

"That's giving up."

"That's reality, until we see otherwise," Rick said.

Mason flinched, enough that Eugene wrapped an arm around her.

 _I know you're scared, Mason. But this isn't like before. It isn't over._

"When I was a kid, I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war," Rick continued. "He wouldn't answer. Said that was grown-up stuff. So I asked if any Germans ever tried to kill him. And he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory."

 _Ever since I just kept moving, caught between life and death._

"Every day he woke up, told himself, 'Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.' And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive."

 _I told myself it was because I was dead already, but I was worse than dead._

"That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do, and _then_ we get to live. No matter what happens I know we'll be okay. Because this is how we survive."

 _I was a walker, too._

"We tell ourselves that _we_ are the walking dead."

His eyes met hers across the campfire and she saw the ghosts again. She knew he was remembering that day at the prison, down in the boiler room, knew he was remembering her story. She saw the ghosts and knew he was seeing hers, too.

"We ain't them," Daryl growled.

"Hey." Rick reached out a quelling hand. "We're not."

But Daryl refused to be soothed. He got to his feet and said it again.

"We ain't dead."

Mason watched him disappear to the back of the barn where the shadows were thickest. Then she looked at Rick. They weren't the only ones carrying ghosts on their backs. Patting Eugene's arm to let him know everything was okay, or at least as okay as it could be, she stood and followed Daryl.

He paced back and forth by the back door and didn't acknowledge her. Quietly she sat, leaning back against the wall, and watched him for a while before closing her eyes. They would talk when he was ready. No sense trying now, while he was supercharged with this manic energy.

Suddenly Daryl let out a shout, and Mason's eyes flew open to see him pressing desperately against the door, which bowed in as though from a great weight.

She scrambled to her feet, sliding in straw that covered the floor, and slammed into the door.

Snarling sounded from the other side, nearly drowned by the furious wail of the wind and rain. Daryl looked at her and she looked at him and there was no anger in that moment, none of the dark veil that had separated them since Beth's death. There was only the terror of keeping their people safe.

The walkers pushed insistently at the doors, and there were too many to hold back for long. Mason's arms trembled from the strain. Rain flew in through the gap, drenching her.

Then suddenly Maggie was there, and Sasha, too. They forced their weight against the doors, four of them linked by their grief and united in their desperation.

But there were just too many. And the storm was growing louder, more violent, crashing against the walls of the barn like it meant to break it down.

Just when she thought her muscles would give, the weight lessened a bit. Rick had appeared, and Michonne and Glenn and Carol. Abraham, Rosita, Tara. Carl, Noah, Gabriel.

Eugene.

He slammed his hands against the groaning planks beside her, his weight and shadow warm against her, lending her strength.

And the smell of rain was everywhere, washing clean the stench of death.

And his hand came to close over hers, holding tight.

And they were all together, her family was together, they were _together_.

The storm screamed and Mason screamed back.

~m~

When she awoke, she was in Eugene's arms. Everything was silent, a far cry from the cacophony of last night. She stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the sound of his heart beating against her ear.

After a while, she noticed Daryl sitting alone against the doors, watching her with an unreadable expression. Gently she extricated herself from Eugene and went over to him.

They sat in silence for a while. The others lay scattered across the room in a mess of limbs. A wave of warmth washed over her, the first in a long time.

"You know I didn't mean it," Daryl finally said.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"She called me out on my bullshit, too."

Mason let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "That's my girl."

He nodded and wrapped an arm around her. "C'mere."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, let the tears come as silently as they would. And though the pain ripped through her, though it was unbelievable, though her fingers _trembled_ with it, she welcomed it gratefully.

It would still hurt. It would hurt every goddamn day, and sometimes she wouldn't know what to do with herself. Sometimes she would be nothing more than a ghost.

But she wasn't alone this time.

She wasn't alone.


	2. Believe

Hello, all. First off, MANY thanks for the reviews and follows. I was kinda nervous posting this sequel and it's good to see some of ya'll sticking around for it. Today's chapter title is an oldie but a goodie, "Believe" by The Bravery. Perfect for the Alexandria era. I am currently working on the next chapter, got some stuff planned that I didn't think of before and I'm pretty excited about it. Until then, let me know what you think.

2\. Believe

Mason was sitting in the back of the barn with Eugene when Maggie and Sasha led the stranger into the barn.

"Everyone? This is Aaron."

As one, the group leapt to their feet, bristling with weapons. The stranger held his hands up, looking very unassuming.

Mason didn't trust him.

"We met him outside. He's by himself," Maggie said. "We took his weapons and we took his gear."

Despite this, Daryl patted him down roughly. He didn't have any weapons on him but that didn't mean anything.

"Hi," the stranger said. "It's nice to meet you."

He stepped toward Rick with his hand outstretched but Mason, Abraham and Daryl closed ranks around him, guns ready.

"There somethin' you need?" Rick growled.

"He has a camp," Sasha said, and nobody missed it, the way her voice darkened. They were all thinking the same thing.

 _Sanctuary for all._

"He wants us to audition for membership."

"I wish there was another word," the stranger said. "Audition makes it sound like we're a dance troop. That's only on Friday nights."

Nobody laughed. Mason thought of Gareth- so personable, so likeable- and her eyes narrowed.

"And it's not a camp. It's a community."

 _Community for all._

"I think you all would make valuable additions. But it's not my call. My job is to convince you all to follow me back home."

 _Those who arrive, survive._

"I know. If I were you I wouldn't go, either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting into. Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack."

Sasha shook her head but handed it to Rick anyway.

"Front pocket. There's an envelope," the stranger said. "There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community. That's why I brought those."

Mason leaned forward to examine the photos Rick pulled from the backpack. Grainy and black and white, they showed a row of homes, solar panels, walls.

"If you join us, I promise you all will be safe. Each panel in the wall surrounding us is a fifteen-foot-high, twelve-foot-wide solid slab of steel, framed by cold-rolled steel beams and square tubing. Nothing, alive or dead, gets through that without our say-so."

Eugene tensed beside her, obviously excited, but she wasn't so willing to believe.

"In fact, there's only one thing more critical to our community's survival. And that's people."

 _When people become a part of us, we get stronger._

 _You're either the butcher, or you're the cattle._

 _Those who arrive, survive._

Rick didn't say a word. He handed the photos to Michonne, strode forward and punched the stranger in the face. Daryl and Sasha hurried to tie him up while he was unconscious.

"Everybody, we need eyes in every direction," Rick said. "They're coming for us."

Mason and Eugene headed for the back wall, peering between the slats to the world outside. Everything seemed quiet, but her heart pounded with the imminence of attack.

"Best theory wins," Eugene murmured. Tentatively, like he wasn't sure he should.

Mason looked at him. "You think there's some kind of alternative to this?"

"I am of the opinion that every facet should be examined before making a decision, especially one as important as this."

"What do you think we're doing?"

The stranger woke up a little while later. Maggie helped him up off the ground.

He smiled a little. "Hell of a right cross there, Rick."

Rick twitched his head to the side and held out a little orange gun. Mason stiffened at the sight of the flare gun. "How many of your people are out there? You have this to signal your people, how many are there?"

For the first time, the stranger looked properly afraid. "Does it matter?"

"Yes. Yes, it does."

"I mean, of course it matters how many people are actually out there but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there? Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say- eight, thirty-two, four hundred and forty four- you're not going to trust me."

"It's hard to trust anyone who smiles after getting punched in the face."

"How about a guy who leaves bottles of water for you in the road?"

Everyone tensed. Mason glanced at Eugene.

"Quality assurance," he mouthed and she rolled her eyes.

"How long you people been followin' us?" Daryl demanded.

"Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail," the stranger replied. "Long enough to see that, despite a lack of food and water you never turned on each other. You're _survivors_. And you're _people_. Like I said, and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that is the most important resource in the world."

Rick loomed over him. "How many others are out there?"

The stranger's lips thinned. "One."

Daryl snorted and Rick shook his head.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me… What if I drove you to the community? All of you. We leave now, we get there by lunch."

"I'm not sure how the fifteen of us are gonna fit in the car you and your one friend drove down here in," Rick said.

"We drove separately. If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home. East on Ridge Road, as you hit route 16, there's an RV. Please. You can trust me."

After a long, uncertain silence, Michonne spoke up. "I'll check out the cars."

"There aren't any cars," Rick said.

"There's only one way to find out."

"We don't need to find out-"

"We _do_. You know what you know, and you're sure of it, but I'm not."

They held each other's gazes for a long time, and Mason caught a spark of something between them that made her flinch.

"I'll go, too," Glenn finally said.

Rick shook his head, exasperated. "Abraham. Rosita. Walk with them. If you're not back in sixty minutes, we'll come."

Once they'd left with the stranger, he went on.

"If we're all in here, we're a target. Groups of two, find somewhere safe within eyeshot."

Two by two they filed out, a reverse ark. Mason and Eugene paired up without question and went to hunker down in some bushes close to the barn.

"I know what we're doing," he whispered after a while. "Playing it safe. I fully and emphatically endorse this method when it's required."

"And you don't think it's required now?"

"That's not exactly it. It's that…well, I can see that Rick is not intending on believing in this man's good intentions-"

" _Good intentions_?" Mason glared at him. "Eugene, you can't be that naïve."

"And you can't be that unreasonable," he fired back.

"Okay, have you forgotten Terminus? Don't you remember what those people would've done to us? We can't trust anyone that isn't us."

"I remember. I remember every day. Just like I remember the first time I met _you_. Blazing out of that cornfield like an ancient Greek Fury, standing there in that cloak of walker guts with your fire poker. And the way you looked at me…you could've killed me. If you'd wanted. Instead you saved me. Not just then, but every day since. And each one of those days I thank my luck stars that we found each other."

Mason stared at him a moment before looking away. She didn't know how to respond, which made her uncomfortable, which then made her irritable.

"It's not the same," she growled. "I didn't want to _eat you_."

"How was I to know? I'm saying I took a chance."

"You took the chance because you needed someone to get you to D.C."

Eugene flinched and Mason immediately regretted her words.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you just…you can't take a chance on everyone."

"I'm aware of that. This isn't just for me. It's for you. For your family."

"They're your family now, too."

Uneasily, he looked at his feet. "Thank you for saying so, Mason, but I don't believe they will ever think of me that way."

She hesitated, thinking of how she'd pointed the gun, fully willing to leave with him if the group decided to abandon him. The realization made her prickle with panic.

"They will," she said quietly. "Give them time."

"So…what you are in fact saying is I should _give them a chance_?"

"What- would you- would you just shut the fuck up?"

~m~

It was approaching the hour mark when Glenn and the others returned with both an RV and a car.

Everyone reconvened in the barn. Mason ignored Eugene's pointed looks and instead focused on the food, of which there was plenty on the RV. It was a testament to her desperation that even the beans made her mouth water.

"This is ours," Rick told the stranger, who looked exasperated and tired.

"There's more than enough."

"It's _ours_ , whether or not we go to your camp."

"Wait, why wouldn't we go?" Carl demanded.

"If he were lying, or if he wanted to hurt us," Michonne answered. "But he isn't, and he doesn't. We _need_ this. So we're going, all of us."

Everyone else seemed to agree with Michonne, apparently swayed by the stranger's honesty.

But Mason and Rick exchanged a haunted glance and came to an unspoken agreement.

They would go. And they would spill however much blood they needed to to stay safe.

~m~

Abraham drove, but Mason kept her eyes trained on the taillights in front of them like she held the wheel instead. Rick, Glenn and Michonne had decided to drive with the stranger, while the rest of them piled into the RV. Night had fallen and the lights looked demonic in a sea of inky black.

Eugene touched his pinky finger to hers. "If you're any tenser, you'll crap out a diamond."

"You're one to talk, Cowardly Lion."

"Cards on the table, I'm more like gelatin when I'm frightened. Soft and wiggly. You turn into a fucking knife."

"I will stab you in your goddamn Jell-O cups if you do not shut up."

Before he could answer, the RV jarred to a halt, throwing everyone into walls and onto the floor.

"Shit dick," Abraham said.

"Where'd they go?" Rosita asked, and it was then that Mason realized the taillights had disappeared. In their place milled a swarm of walkers.

"Kept moving. We would've hit 'em if they hadn't."

"Shit."

Mason grabbed her fire iron and hopped to her feet, but Eugene seized her arm.

"What are you doing?"

"They need us. That's a fucking _herd_ out there!"

"And you think getting yourself killed is going to help. Solid logic."

"Fuck you, I can handle it-"

"Guys!"

Everyone quieted and looked to where Carl was pointing. A red flare cut the sky, illuminating a water tower not far from them.

"Do you think it's them?" Sasha said.

"I'm not taking the chance that it is," Abraham replied and backed up quickly, once again sending everyone to the floor.

They took a side road through the woods, following the dying glimmer of the flare until they came to a cluster of factories.

Abraham parked. "What in Satan's nutsack…"

Up ahead, a pack of walkers surrounded a rusted car and the body squirming underneath.

It was a person, Mason realized with a sick jolt. Before she could think better of it, she rushed out the door, Maggie, Abraham and Carl on her heels. They dispatched the walkers quickly while Noah, Eugene and Daryl pushed the car off of the squirming man.

Once the area was clear, Maggie and Rosita knelt to examine his ankle, which looked horribly crooked. The sight of it made Mason feel a little faint.

"Thank you. Thank you," the man gasped. Covered in mud and walker blood, he looked incredibly small and frail.

"Can you tell me your name?" Maggie asked.

"Eric."

"Okay, Eric, it looks like what you've got here is a broken ankle. Considerin' everythin', it's not that bad at all. A bit like a volleyball injury. Rosita, can you help me make a brace?"

While they worked, Eric explained that he was in fact the other person that the stranger- Aaron,Mason reminded herself, she could call him Aaron- was working with. He also mentioned that in his community- Alexandria, he called it- there was an infirmary where he could get his leg patched in no time.

Mason and the others looked at each other in awe. How long had it been since they'd had real medical care? How long had they tried to make it with what they could find in the woods? How long had hope been their only available cure?

They carried Eric into one of the factory store rooms and laid him on a bed of lawn chair pillows.

A few minutes later, to everyone's relief, Rick and the others showed up, covered in walker guts but no worse for wear. Aaron, calling desperately for Eric, rushed into the store room.

"Thank you," he told them when he emerged, eyes bright with tears. "You saved Eric. I owe you, all of you, and I will make sure that debt is paid in full when we get to our community. Now, I'm not sure about you but I'd rather not do any driving tonight."

This time, a chuckle rippled through the group.

"Maybe we can hit the road tomorrow morning."

"That sounds fine," Rick replied. "But if we're staying here for the night you're sleeping over there, away from him."

"You really think we gotta do that?" Maggie said.

"It's the safe play."

Aaron squared his jaw. "The only way you're gonna stop me from being with him right now is by shooting me."

With a sudden sting, Mason realized that they were more than just partners.

"Rick, he told us where the camp is. And he really was only traveling with one other person," Glenn said. "They're both unarmed. One of them's got a broken ankle. I want us to be safe, too. I can't give up everything else."

Rick stared at him for a long time, his eyes distant. Finally, he dipped his head.

Mason turned away as Aaron strode back into the store room. She focused on setting up camp instead, gathering kindling with Daryl so they could put their food to good use. But though they all ate well that night, it was not like the feast at the church. Nobody dared raise their spirits too high.

As they were drifting off, Eugene murmured, "I am officially calling you on your bullshit."

"What?"

"I saw the way you ran to help that man even though he wasn't one of us. You still have hope."

Mason sat up to stare at him, but he just gave her a sleepy smirk.

"Checkmate."

Flushing with heat, she scowled. "Go to sleep."

~m~

She didn't know she was dreaming at first, because it wasn't a nightmare. At least, it didn't start that way.

She was back in her cell at the prison. The muffled sound of voices reached her. She recognized all of them.

Lori soothing Little Asskicker to sleep.

T-Dog singing, joyfully out of key.

Merle laughing heartily at one of his own jokes.

Tyreese worrying out loud over something trivial.

Bob assuring him that it was fine, that everything was fine.

She smiled. She couldn't remember why she shouldn't.

A hand slipped into hers, soft and familiar. She turned and there was Beth, smiling that wide, wise, innocent, mischievous smile.

"Keep smilin'," she said. "I miss it."

Mason's blood turned to moonlight, to helium. They leaned in to kiss and it was so real, it was _so real_ , and a part of her knew that it was going to hurt when she woke up, it was going to hurt like salt in raw skin, but she couldn't stop.

"Mason…"

"Mmm…"

"Mason."

Beth pulled away, giggling at Mason's disappointment.

"I need to show you somethin'."

"You do, huh?"

"Not that."

Reluctantly, Mason let Beth pull her off the bed and out of the cell block. They passed through the darkness of the tombs, up to the roof where the moonlight was. Except it wasn't moonlight. And they weren't on the roof. They climbed out of an air duct into a rain-soaked forest.

"Where are we?"

"You know where we are."

Mason wanted to tell her that no, she didn't, but as they walked she caught sight of a dark lump up ahead. A tumor in the woods.

She wanted to stop but her legs moved without her say-so. Beth gave her a reassuring look.

"It's okay," she said. "You're dreamin'. I just have to show you somethin'."

Mason trusted her, but she couldn't bear to look for longer than a moment at the rusted Cadillac, where she'd taken shelter with Gina the night they were run off the road, where…

 _Stop._

They drifted past walkers who didn't notice them, rotten bodies melting in the rain. They drifted past trees that whispered indecipherable secrets. And with each step Mason's anxiety grew, until her heart crashed louder than the thunder above.

Up ahead, a puddle gleamed with unnatural light.

Red light.

Mason shuddered to a halt.

"No. No, please, Beth-"

"It's okay. It's okay. You need to see."

"See what?"

Instead of answering, Beth gestured meaningfully at the puddle. Her eyes were clearest blue. Mason trusted them.

She stepped forward…

…and jolted awake.

The forest was gone but the smell of rain lingered a heartbeat longer. Her lips tasted of salt. She licked the tears away and sat up, shivering with cold sweat and the vague but insistent impression of something unfinished.

The harder she tried to remember, however, the further the dream slipped from her grasp. All she knew was that Beth had been there, and it had been nice until it wasn't.

Half-asleep, Eugene nuzzled his face into her neck and mumbled, "I'm here."

Mason sighed and patted his hand for freedom. "I know."

He let her go with an unintelligible murmur and curled up like a hedgehog. She snuck past the sleeping forms of her family and outside, where Rick kept watch.

He nodded to her. "Everything's quiet."

She nodded, too. "Doesn't mean shit."

She knew that he knew she wasn't talking about their surroundings.

"Terminus was quiet. Woodbury was quiet," he said. "Tomorrow. This _Alexandria_. Without seeing inside, we're going to have to decide if it's safe for us or not. I know you're ready for it. I am, too."

"It's not all on you, Rick," she said. "Whatever happens tomorrow, we'll handle it as a family."

He peered at her for a moment, like he was seeing something there he never had before.

No.

Like he was seeing the return of something he was sure had been lost.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"We'll make it through this. One way or another. That's what we do."

"Yes, it is."

~m~

When they pulled up to the gate, Mason took a deep, unsteady breath.

Eugene took her hand. "I'm here."

"I know."

Aaron led the group to the gate, which creaked open at their approach. Mason's nerves prickled at the sight of the stranger standing there. She thought she might never look at strangers the same way again.

Before anyone could speak, something crashed through the undergrowth at them. Everyone aimed their guns but Daryl was quickest, shooting the possum through the eye.

The stranger stared at them, eyes wide. Daryl held the possum up.

"We brought dinner."

"It's okay," Aaron assured the stranger. "C'mon in, guys."

Slowly they passed through the gate, sticking to a tight amoeba. The stranger backed up, taking in their weapons, their wounds, their blood-stained clothes. Mason kept half her attention trained on him. The other half was busy admiring the beauty of the place. It was so _clean_. The houses were grand and orderly, the yards, the trees, the flowers. She couldn't believe any place like this still existed.

The gate closed behind them. Mason tensed.

"Before we take this any further, I need you all to turn over your weapons."

Her blood heated defensively.

 _There's plenty of room here for all of you, but before anything else, we need to see everyone's weapons._

Nobody moved.

"If you stay, you hand them over."

"We don't know if we want to stay," Rick replied. "If we were gonna use them, we would've started already."

"Let them talk to Deanna first," Aaron said.

"Who's Deanna?" Abraham demanded.

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place-"

"Hold that thought," Rick said and pointed through the gate where a walker approached.

"I got it," Sasha said, lifted her gun and shot it right between the eyes.

Rick looked back at the stranger.

"It's a good thing we're here."


	3. Creature Comfort

Hello, lovelies! Well, I'm excited to post this next chapter, which was very fun for me to write. I hope you guys like it! Thank you for your reviews, I'm so glad that ya'll have stuck with me so far. Today's chapter title is "Creature Comfort" by Arcade Fire, which I love love love. Anyway, let me know what you think!

3\. Creature Comfort

 **Mason**

"Could you state your name for the camera please?"

"Mason Reynolds."

"Mason, if you don't mind my asking, how is it that you ended up with your people? Rick says that none of you were together before all this."

"We weren't. They caught me stealing some of their food and decided to take pity on me."

"So you would say that they rescued you?"

"Many times, yes."

"That's interesting, because several others have mentioned how _you_ rescued _them_. Especially Mr. Porter. He speaks very highly of you."

"It's not a one-way street. That's what we do for each other, all of us."

"And why is that?"

"Because we're family."

 **Alpha**

The walker went down hard and she rolled with the fall to land spritely on bare feet. Its head tumbled after her, still snapping. She impaled it with a jagged edge of glass and kicked it deeper into the woods.

"Nice catch."

Alpha curled her lip. "It was in its second death. Wouldn't have been much use for the trucks."

"We have plenty already."

"Good."

She turned fully to face the man, her second-in-command, the puppeteer which her dark hand guided. He was Beta to her. To the rest of the pack, he was Alpha.

"What news of the prey? Michaels, was it?"

Beta dipped his head. "We're closing in. Zeus and Embry are laying a trap as we speak."

Alpha's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Let me know when you finish with the trucks. I'll come by to inspect them."

Without another word, she crouched over the body of the walker. The glass shard glinted red in the hazy light.

Beta watched, enamored, as she began to skin it.

 **Eugene**

When Mason emerged from Deanna's house, she looked about as skittish as he was expecting. The tension in her worn frame eased a bit at the sight of him.

"What did she say to you?" he asked.

"She said that she was very excited to have us here, and that she couldn't wait to see what kind of additions we would make in her community. Oh, and I'm a housekeeper again because apparently that shit still matters now."

"For reals?"

"Well, groundskeeper, too, I guess. Any messes that need cleaning, that's what I'm here for."

Eugene frowned. "I was certain she'd put you on scouting. Tara and Glenn were drafted for it."

Mason shrugged. "Whatever. It'll let me keep a closer eye on things."

"You _will_ be right inside these people's domains. What better way to learn about them than by studying all their knick-knacks?"

"…Are you teasing me?"

"A little. But I also fully agree that it is a smart thing to do. I will help in whatever way I can."

Her lips twitched. "Thank you, Dr. Deceit."

 **Alpha**

It took less time than she expected for the pack to finish the trucks. While they waited in the woods, she met Beta there for the obligatory audit. The Wolves had been working for her for months now. They did good work, but she didn't trust anyone.

Beta smiled as she approached, that familiar gleam in his eye. He wanted to fuck her. She knew it. She also knew he was too frightened of her to ever initiate anything. He'd seen what she did to men who tried.

"…then the walkers trap them in the car and we round them up again. Ingenious touch with the music, by the way. Chic, almost."

Alpha's spine stiffened and Beta backed off, recognizing the fire in her eyes.

"Your friend?" he asked.

"Music was not just an obsession, it was a tool," she said and left it at that.

"So. Green light?"

"Have some fun with it. I think I'll find that lovely little stray we took in last week. What was her name? Linda?"

Beta's face pinched. "Leslie."

Alpha grinned, showing all her teeth. " _Leslie_. Right. I don't think it really matters, names are just a social concept from a plush era. But I'll need something to scream tonight."

It was funny how he looked away, glaring jealously at the trailers as if she intended on sleeping with them tonight. She laughed.

"Good hunting," she said and turned away.

 **Mason**

They gathered in the same house that night, though Deanna had given them two. There were four bedrooms but they didn't spread out. Nobody thought to. They set up camp in the living room.

Carol drew a diagram of the community on a piece of paper, obviously thinking along the same lines of reconnaissance as Mason. Maggie and Glenn went through the basket of laundry one of the Alexandrians had left, smelling them every once in a while in amazement. Sasha and Abraham kept watch at the windows, next to Carl Daryl, who were settling Little Asskicker in her new crib.

Next to her, Eugene tossed something from hand-to-hand, his eyes distant. Mason blinked when she realized that it was the rock she'd give him.

"You kept it," she said.

"What? Oh, of course I did. It's a symbol of my victory. And a very pretty rock. Why, don't you have yours?"

Mason raised an eyebrow, reached into her pocket and pulled out the rock he'd given her. She tapped it to his like they were toasting champagne.

When the front door opened, everyone tensed, reaching automatically for weapons that weren't there. Before meeting with Deanna they'd all turned their weapons in to a woman named Olivia, whom Mason doubted had had much practice shooting a gun. Luckily Mason's prime weapon also happened to be a household tool.

She picked it up as Deanna herself walked in, looking shocked at Rick's new appearance. He'd shaved his beard and cut his hair. Mason herself had never seen him look quite so tidy.

"Wow," Deanna said. "I didn't know what was under there."

Rick made a sound somewhere between a growl and a laugh.

"Listen, I don't mean to interrupt, I just wanted to see how you were settling- oh."

She broke off when she saw the rest of them, huddled defensively in the living room like a pack of wild animals.

She smiled. "Staying together. Smart."

Mason frowned.

"No one said we couldn't," Rick said.

"You said you're family. It's absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that."

Rick nodded. "Everybody said you gave them jobs."

"Yeah. Part of this place. Looks like the communists won after all."

"You didn't give me one."

"I have," Deanna replied, eyes sparkling. "I just haven't told you yet. Same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha, and I'm just trying to figure Mr. Dixon out- but I will."

 _Good luck,_ Mason thought wryly.

"Well. I'll leave you be. I'm glad you all are here."

When she was gone, the tension dissipated. Glenn and Maggie returned to sorting laundry. Michonne returned to the bathroom to resume brushing her teeth, which she'd already been doing for twenty minutes. Carl started reading a comic book to his sister.

It didn't feel substantial.

It was suspended reality. It was fight or flight waiting in the wings.

 **Alpha**

They fucked in the foliage, slick with the blood of some other unfortunate soul. They'd never seen the man before, never gave him a chance to beg for his life. They'd wanted what he had, so they took it.

They rolled through the undergrowth like rabid animals, teeth and tongues and carnal rage. There was no love in it. There never was, not with anyone she took to bed.

When Linda went down on her- or was it Lisa? Lillian? Fuck it, it didn't matter- Alpha clawed her hands into the tangle of Whoever-the-Fuck's hair and yanked her closer.

She didn't care about being silent. If any walkers heard them, she'd take care of it. It wouldn't be the first time she'd killed during. She screamed when she came, nearly convulsing with release. Her grimy nails dug deep furrows in the earth.

After, she held Whoever-the-Fuck close. She felt no kinship with the woman. It just kept the trembling at bay, the quiet closeness. Sometimes even her demons craved silence.

 **Mason**

"You must be the new cleaning lady," the old man said, offering a crinkly smile.

No matter how hard she tried, Mason's lips stayed frozen in what she hoped was at least neutrality.

"That's me. Mason."

"My name's Bill. Yeah, Deanna told me you'd be coming around. Come in, come in, please."

Stiffly, Mason stepped into the man's house, which smelled strongly of flowers and cinnamon. The man spotted her sniffing like an intrigued dog and smiled sympathetically.

"Suppose this must be a little overwhelming for you. I'm sorry. I tried to convince my wife to tone it down, but she gets a little anxious when she knows she'll be having company over."

Mason couldn't help raising an eyebrow. "I'm company?"

"Of course. Do you want some tea? I was just making some."

"Um…I don't want to impose…"

"Nonsense, you're already here."

Cautiously she followed him into the kitchen, taking in everything from the vase of flowers on the table to the china plates on the wall to the dishwasher whirring dutifully.

"Cataloguing your surroundings?"

Mason jumped. Bill nodded sagely, holding out a mug of what smelled like bergamot tea.

"I was the same way, coming home from the war. I saw the fight everywhere, in everything around me. It was a long time before normal was normal again."

Ignoring her better instincts, Mason took the tea. She looked around pointedly.

"This? What you have here? This isn't normal anymore."

Bill dipped his head. "I have heard that. The others I think underestimate the things Aaron and Eric see on their excursions. I can only imagine what it must've been like for you."

Mason cast around desperately for a change of topic. "Where is your wife?"

"Upstairs, sleeping. She…well, she's been a bit off lately. Doc says it might be dementia."

 _Nice one, Mason._

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be, you couldn't have known. Anyway, I find it's always better to be honest upfront. Secrets fertilize disaster."

She smiled a little, surprised to find that she liked this man. There was something about him, his kindness and freely-given wisdom, that reminded her of Hershel.

"Thank you for the tea, but…I should probably get to work."

"I'll tell you what. How about you finish that tea- very hard to come by bergamot these days, no sense in wasting it- and then go visit the other houses? Get acclimated? You can clean tomorrow."

She blinked at his understanding. She wondered if any of the other Alexandrians would get it that she needed to learn all she could about them.

"Thank you."

 **Eugene**

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself without Mason around. In truth, he'd grown accustomed to the whole group despite their lukewarm acceptance of him. Wandering alone through the community felt a bit like the times he'd been lost in the woods as a kid. After a few laps around the place he returned to the house.

No one else was back yet. The silence made his neck prickle. He found himself drawn into the kitchen, scrounging through the fridge, which felt blissfully cool. Olivia, the woman who'd taken their guns, had also stocked their kitchen with food from the communal pantry. There was everything he needed to make a casserole, so he set to work.

It was soothing, the meal prep, the smell of food he hadn't tasted in months. He could almost pretend he was back in his apartment, back before everything had gone to shit.

"What are you doing?"

He jumped about a foot in the air, nearly spilling a bowl of chicken. Carol watched him with an expression he couldn't quite read.

He dipped his head. "Uh, ma'am. Uh, casserole. Chicken alfredo. Of course there's only canned chicken available but I am quite confident in my ability to make a damn fine dish regardless."

He fully expected her to ask why he was cooking. Instead she quirked an eyebrow skeptically.

"A damn fine one, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am. The damn finest."

"Want some help?"

This blindsided him. Carol had been among the coldest toward him after confessing to his lie, not to mention he was a teensy bit frightened of the fierce mama lion he knew her to be.

"M-much obliged."

They worked in silence for a while, in strange synchronization. Both of them knew what they were doing, it was companionable in that sense, but underneath there was a strain that made him want to hide in one of the cupboards.

Once the casserole was in the oven, Carol leaned against the counter. It was a casual stance but there was nothing casual about her hawkish gaze.

"You're really good at that," she said. "I'm impressed."

"Well truth to tell, casseroles are not terribly complicated, but thank you regardless."

"I don't ever _need_ help in the kitchen but if I ever want any you'll be the first I call."

He couldn't help smirking a little at her cocky tone, but the smirk disappeared completely as she went on.

"I've actually been meaning to talk to you for a while, but the timing was never right. You were always with Mason and I didn't want to upset her."

 _Shit, she's going to stab me with a spatula. That will be my noble death. Shit._

"You see, I love Mason. She's part of my family. And when anybody threatens the safety of my family, it makes me less…cuddly."

"Ma'am, it was never my intention-"

"Of course not. But you also knew the danger you were dragging her into. And Glenn and Maggie and Tara. You didn't care enough."

"But I…I care enough now. You cannot understand the magnitude of the guilt. I…I don't sleep anymore. Not really. When I do, all I see are their faces. The ones I killed and the ones I might've. I truly believe it has started to eat me from the inside out."

Carol stared at him for a long time, her eyes narrowed. Her fingers brushed lightly over a kitchen knife and Eugene took a step back.

"You think I don't know about guilt?" she finally said. Her voice was dangerously low. "You think I don't know about sleepless nights? You're not the only one who's done things they're ashamed of. The difference is, I did those things for the people I love, and you did them for yourself."

The words twisted a knife in his stomach but he couldn't deny the truth in them. But it wasn't true anymore.

"I will never deny that what I did was wrong. I thought at the time that it was my cleverest idea but that really only meant it was the most heinous." He paused, fidgeting his fingers like a nervous child. "But I…I want to change. I want to be a better man. For this group."

"And for Mason?"

He flinched, overcome with a sudden urge to lie. But that was exactly the vice he was trying to conquer. So he squared his shoulders and said, "Yes. That's part of it."

Carol nodded, her lips pursed in a calculating expression. "Are you in love with her?"

His heart thundered.

"Yes."

"So you would do anything for her? Because she would do anything for you. You have to know that."

"Yes, I…that's why I'm trying to be better. Fear is a powerful thing, ma'am."

"It's nothing compared to losing someone you truly love."

The anguish behind her words put a lump in his throat. He didn't dare ask who it was she'd lost. The pain was enough that he could guess.

After a moment, Carol tapped the knife against the butcher block in a steady meter, a far cry from his own pulse.

"If Mason ever falls in love again it needs to be with someone who is right for her. And if she chooses you, you had better be ready. You would be a very, very lucky man."

Her last words might've been a blessing if they didn't sound so much like a death threat.

He swallowed hard. "I know, ma'am. I truly…don't deserve her."

"No, you don't."

She watched him for a moment, stilling the knife.

"But maybe someday you could. Now c'mon. Help me clean up these dishes."

 **Mason**

Another day passed in the same manner. She went around to people's houses and cleaned what they wanted cleaned. When she was done she walked the grounds, though there was hardly anything to do there, the people kept it so clean. It was sort of nice- she got to listen to her music and disappear into a world of mind-numbing repetition. It would've been nicer if she trusted anyone.

Bill was the exception, and his wife, Janet, who she met on her second visit. They were an idyllic couple, the kind of perfect grandparents she'd always wanted for herself. Even on the days she didn't work, she vowed to visit them for tea.

Eugene met her when she was finished and they told each other about their days. He was the resident maintenance technician- anything that needed fixing, that was his job.

"The cleaner and the fixer," Mason said. "We make a lovely team."

They were coming to the gate when they heard voices, raised in dispute. Mason recognized Glenn's. With a glance at Eugene, she hurried toward the sound.

Near the gate, Glenn stood head to head with Deanna's son, Aiden. Noah, Tara and Nicholas clustered around them, apparently having just returned from their dry run.

"Look, I'm not having this conversation," Aiden said. "You obey _my_ orders out there."

"Well, then, we're just as screwed as your last group."

Aiden's eyes flashed. Mason and Eugene inched toward them, and they weren't the only ones. Daryl, Sasha and Maggie closed in, as well as what looked like half the Alexandrians.

"Say that again."

Aiden shoved Glenn and Mason's blood boiled.

"C'mon, tough guy."

"Aiden!"

Deanna came running from her house, her face a mask of ire.

"What is going on?"

"This guy's got a problem with the way we do things." He turned to glare at her. "Why'd you let these people in?"

"Because we actually know what we're doing," Glenn said.

Aiden whipped around to take a swing at him, but Glenn saw it coming. He ducked easily and punched him. Aiden reeled backwards, holding his bleeding nose.

Nicholas shouted and made to attack Glenn himself, but Daryl charged him like a bull and knocked him on his ass. Mason rushed into the fray with the others of her group. They flanked each other protectively, facing the Alexandrians.

It was Rick and Michonne who broke up the fight before it could escalate. Daryl paced back and forth, glaring daggers at Nicholas, but Rick positioned himself between them.

"We do not do this now," he murmured, but Daryl kept pacing.

Deanna looked at all of them before turning to her people.

"I want everyone to hear me, okay? Rick and his people are part of this community now, in all ways. As equals. Understood?"

At this last, she glared pointedly at her son.

He snorted. "Understood."

He and the rest of the run crew disappeared to turn in their weapons. The Alexandrians trickled away. Mason, Eugene, Daryl and Maggie lingered as Deanna turned to Rick.

"I said I had a job for you. I want you to be our constable. That's what you were. That's what you _are_."

She smiled a little and glanced at Michonne.

"Same with you, Michonne. Will you accept?"

The group hung on Rick's response. He was silent for several tense heartbeats before he nodded to Michonne.

"Okay."

She smiled. "Yeah, I'm in."

Daryl snorted and took off, clearly disgusted. Mason watched him go, not knowing what to think.

~m~

Later that night, when Rick came down the stairs after changing into his uniform, everyone stared. It was looked right on him, and yet so strange. Like they were looking at a picture of who he used to be. Who he should've been.

He didn't say anything, just went out to join Daryl and Carol on the porch. But as he passed her, he motioned for Mason to follow. She patted Eugene's arm and obeyed.

Daryl puffed his cigarette and took in Rick's new appearance. "You a cop again?"

Rick sighed. "I'm trying it on for size."

"So we're staying?" Mason asked.

He nodded. "I think we can start sleeping in our own homes. Settle in."

A confusion of emotions danced in her skull. She didn't know how to react, so she glanced at Daryl for help. But he looked as lost as she did.

"If we get comfortable here, if we let our guard down, this place is gonna make us weak," Carol said.

"Carl said that," Rick replied. "But it's not gonna happen. We won't get weak. That's not in us anymore. We'll make it work. And if these people can't make it, then we'll just take this place."

Mason's blood chilled.

She didn't know if it was because she disagreed.

Or because she did.

 **Alpha**

The man's screams descended quickly into blubbering. Alpha curled her lip as she advanced on him, disgusted and excited in equal measure.

" _Please. Please. H-help me_!"

Alpha pulled one of the many glass shards from her belt. "Does it look like I want to help you?"

His chin trembled. Snot and tears glistened on his dingy face.

"You're…you're with them aren't you?"

She grinned wolfishly. "No. But he offered me a hefty reward for you. Fucking hell, what did you do to piss him off?"

The man didn't answer and instead began clawing at the bear trap around his ankle. Zeus and Embry watched from the shadows, moonlight glinting off their axes. Alpha knew they were barely restraining themselves, that if she wasn't there they would have already dismembered him.

Rolling her eyes, she stepped toward him.

" _Get away from me_! _Get the fuck away from me_!"

"Beta," she called lazily.

He appeared seemingly from nowhere, seizing the prey's arms. The man struggled, shrieking tearfully until Alpha kicked him in the face.

"Hook him up. I'll take it from here."

A few minutes later, the man's wrists and feet were noosed, the ends of the rope slung back over Alpha's shoulder so she could drag him. It wasn't far, where she was going. Twenty minutes and then the headlights were in view.

A tall man with a dark moustache waited for her. He shook his head and laughed when she trudged into view.

"I think you're wearing a new coat of blood each time I see you," he said.

"Red's my favorite color."

Casually she dumped the man at his feet.

"There's your man. Michaels, right?"

"Peterson, actually."

"Whatever. You got my shit?"

"Don't I always?"

He reached into the back of his truck and pulled out two canisters of gasoline.

"I can only imagine the fun stuff you're planning with this."

She shrugged. "More like a dress rehearsal, but, yeah. Still fun. You need me for anything else, I'll be around."

"Of course."

She strode away without a backward glance, calling over her shoulder as she went.

"Give my best to Negan."


	4. The (After) Life of the Party

Hey, all! So I know I'm back with another chapter pretty soon after the last, but have any of you ever had days where it feels like way more time has passed than it really has? Like it feels like an eternity but you look back and realize it was only a day and then you get weird anxiety about it? Anyway, sorry, I don't mean to ramble. As always, thank you guys SO MUCH for your reviews and support. Today's chapter title is "The (After) Life of the Party" by Fall Out Boy, one of my favorites of theirs. This chapter is a bit of break from the previous chapters, in the sense that it's lighter and a little fluffy in parts. Hope you guys enjoy, let me know what you think!

4\. The (After) Life of the Party

Mason followed Eugene up the stairs of their new house, down the hall to the room on the end.

"So who else is staying here?" she asked. She'd missed the divvying up that morning, busy outside the walls with Rick, Carol and Daryl. Unbeknownst to the rest of the group, they'd made plans to sneak into the armory and steal guns.

"The others, we want them to try," Rick had said. "So we keep it quiet. Just us."

It felt strange keeping secrets from the rest of the group. Unnatural. But she knew the secrecy was essential. The others _wanted_ to try. They were desperate for the relative normalcy of the place, and she didn't blame them. Some part of her wanted it, too.

"Tara, Noah, Sasha, Rosita and Abraham."

Mason stopped in her tracks. Eugene looked back at her warily.

"They're taking the bedroom on the bottom floor, if I recall. Noah has the smallest room. Tara and Sasha are sharing."

Ever since Abraham had nearly killed Eugene, she'd been unable to forgive him. She'd stayed as from him as possible, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to control her temper.

How the fuck was she supposed to avoid him living in the same house?

Recognizing the violence in her eyes, Eugene sighed and grabbed her hand. "Come on. Our room is as distant from theirs as it can be for sharing the same brick and mortar."

Mason followed him grumpily, trying to tame her irritation.

It disappeared completely, however, when he opened the door.

It was a decent sized room, big but not too big, with a walk-in closet, a dresser and two windows with gossamer drapes.

And one bed.

She stood staring at it from the doorway, prickling with a sudden rush of nerves.

One bed? For the two of them?

It looked incredible comfy, dark and plush. But the sight of it flamed her cheeks with heat.

 _What's the big goddamn deal?_ she thought. _We sleep together every night._

But that was outside. In the woods.

This was a bed. In a house. A house in an almost-normal community with almost-normal people who had almost-normal relationships.

The Alexandrians most certainly would misunderstand. She wanted to think that her own family wouldn't blink twice but somehow, in the context of this new life they were trying to live, she suspected maybe they would.

Eugene cleared his throat nervously. "I'll take the floor. If…if you're not comfortable-"

"No, no, I…I can sleep on the floor, too."

They paused, fidgeting and looking anywhere but at each other.

"Um, well…how about we take turns?" Mason suggested. "I mean, we could both sleep on the floor, but…it seems a shame not to use it when we have it, you know?"

Eugene nodded. "That is an agreeable option in my book."

"Okay. Sweet. Coolioz. Um. I guess I'll bring my stuff up then."

And she made her escape.

 _Breathe, motherfucker. What is wrong with you?_

Tara met her on the porch with a smile. "Hey. You hear about the party yet?"

"Um…no. What party?"

"Deanna's throwing a shindig for us tonight, to welcome us. Apparently we're a hot commodity."

Mason swallowed uneasily. "Oh, well, count me out…"

"No, no, no. If the rest of us have to go, then you have to go. Solidarity. Band of brothers."

Anxiety bubbled in her chest. "Tara, I _can't_."

"There'll be _booze_ …"

Tara waggled her eyebrows goofily but Mason didn't laugh. She was too busy trying to stifle the prickling under her skin.

"Can't you just smuggle some booze for me?"

"Hey." Tara reached out to touch her arm. "It's gonna be okay. We're all gonna be there. Whatever hell we face, we'll face it together, whether that's slaying walkers or making small talk. Okay?"

Mason heaved a deep breath. "Okay. Okay."

"Alright, coolioz. Maggie said she has some clothes for you, she'll be by later."

Tara bumped her fist against Mason's before heading inside. When she was gone, Mason slumped on the porch steps, feeling suddenly drained.

~m~

When Maggie dropped by with the clothes, Mason was sprawled on the living room couch, making constellations out of the light and shadow on the ceiling.

Maggie raised an eyebrow at her languid form. Mason shrugged.

"I'm trying to see how long it takes before I melt into the cushions like a sad, world-weary piece of candy."

"You're a drama queen. Come on, the party starts in a few hours."

Stifling a childish groan, Mason followed her upstairs to the bathroom, where Rosita and Tara already were. Tara gave her an encouraging glance. Rosita gave her a sympathetic one.

Maggie held a bag open in front of her. "Take your pick."

Mason blinked at the assortment of clothes, so much variety it made her head spin.

"Are these…all for me?"

"Been a while since we had options."

Mason bit her lip. "Um. I really don't know. I…I don't even have to change clothes, I can just-"

"No," Rosita said firmly. "You are changing clothes with the rest of us, and we are going to rock our new outfits like the bad bitches we are."

Her words brought on a round of giggles and a spark of silly courage.

They had access to makeup and mirrors, things they thought they'd never use again. They modeled for each other, laughing and critiquing and emboldening each other. Rosita and Tara painted each other's nails. Maggie and Rosita did Mason's hair.

For the first time since coming to Alexandria, she envied the existence these people had salvaged.

"I didn't think I'd ever have another girl's day," Rosita said, peering at two different shrugs like the fate of the world hinged on her decision.

"Me, neither. Totally green, by the way," Mason replied.

"Really, you think?"

"One hundred percent yes. You kick ass in green."

Rosita donned the green shrug, examined herself in the mirror and smiled.

"Fuck yeah."

Tara laughed. "C'mon, gorgeous. I told Noah I'd go with him. See you guys in a bit?"

Maggie nodded. "We'll just be a minute."

She and Mason sat side by side at the vanity after they left, examining their reflections in the mirror.

"Beth and I used to play dress-up before all this," Maggie said after a while. "She loved raidin' my closet. She was a real sneak about it sometimes. I'd spend all day lookin' for my favorite shirt and come downstairs and find her wearin' it."

Mason breathed shakily. Maggie smiled and grabbed her hand.

"I don't think I ever told you how lucky you both were to have found each other. I'm more sorry than I can ever say that it wasn't long enough. I wanted so much more for both of you. But you had each other. You made her so happy, Mason."

Mason smiled though the tears trickled down her face. "Thank you."

Maggie pressed her forehead to Mason's. "I love you, sis."

~m~

Maggie and Glenn offered to walk to the party with Mason, but she insisted on going alone. She took a lap around the compound to clear her head, listening to her iPod on high so that her thoughts had no choice but to shut up.

"You can do this," she whispered. "You can do this."

She kept this mantra up all the way to Deanna's house, but all her earlier courage plummeted when she saw the congregation through the window.

"Fuck. Fuck."

She backed away quickly, hoping no one spotted her. The sun was going down, casting lush shadows. She ghosted to the trees planted by the pond in the center of town, comforted by their sturdy, familiar presence.

And someone else's.

It was Daryl, lurking a few trees away, so fixated on Deanna's house he hadn't noticed her. She stepped toward him, purposely treading on a twig to announce her presence.

He turned, and when he saw her he blinked in shock.

"Mason?"

She shuffled from foot to foot, suddenly regretting her make-over. It was indulgent. Stupid. Frivolous.

"Nope. This is her evil twin. Jason…?"

Daryl snorted. "So I guess you're going to this party then?" The derision in his tone was scorching.

"I'm only in it for the booze."

They stood in silence for a while, watching the figures move beyond the windows. Each familiar face was a shock in the context of such normalcy.

"Aaron said I should come here," Daryl said.

Mason's brow furrowed. "Nice guy Aaron?"

"Met him out in the woods, hunting rabbits. He said I should try."

"Are you going to?"

Daryl scuffed his shoes in the dirt. "I can't."

"Well, you don't have to. You don't have to prove shit to these people."

"Then why are you goin'?"

Mason hesitated. "It's…kind of a personal thing. I don't really know. I guess I'm just trying to prove myself to myself. If that makes sense."

"It doesn't," Daryl said, but he smirked. "You better get on then. Wouldn't wanna keep our gracious hosts waiting."

"Careful, your Merle is showing."

So Mason approached Deanna's house for the second time that night. Though he'd decided not to go, she felt better after talking to Daryl. She took a second to get her breathing under control and then stepped inside.

The first thing she registered was the smell, so many delicious foods coloring the air it made her mouth water. The second thing she registered was the noise, laughter and chatter like an electric hum, setting her on a razor's edge.

 _Breathe._

Steeling herself, she drifted into the crowd.

Almost immediately, several Alexandrians sought her out, thanking her for cleaning their houses, complimenting her hair, asking what her favorite meal was. She kept her voice as light as she could, but could feel the hysteria creeping in.

 _If there is any kind of merciful god, strike me the fuck down right fucking now._

Eventually she was able to extricate herself, scooting along to the far side of the living room. She people watched while she recharged her resolve. There was Rick, talking with a pretty woman named Jessie, and Carl just beyond, laughing with Jessie's son. Glenn, Maggie and Noah were clustered by the fireplace. Rosita, Tara and Abraham lingered by the beer table.

They all seemed suddenly very, very far away.

 _I can't do this,_ she realized. _I can't fucking do this._

She stood stiffly against the wall, gathering the courage to navigate her way back to the door, when it opened and Eugene stepped inside.

Her rising panic quieted. She blinked several times, realizing dimly that she was staring.

Like the rest of them, he wore new clothes for the occasion. The blue plaid shirt fit him nicely, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, which he rubbed at nervously.

Then he saw her from across the room, and his eyes widened.

Her heart fluttered a little. Smothering her anxiety, she glided through the crowd to him.

"Evening, Mason," he said. "You look…" He trailed off.

"That bad, huh?"

His face flushed with color. "No, you…you look beautiful."

"So do you. I mean handsome. You look handsome. I mean. Um. Do you want a drink?"

"Uh, sure."

"Be right back."

She cut through the crowd to the beer table, near feverish with embarrassment.

 _What the fuck was that? Get a fucking grip._

But the beer table was empty, the wine gone except for a bit at the bottom of a lonely bottle, hardly worth the sip. She returned to Eugene emptyhanded, flustered and frustrated in equal measure.

"Maybe there's some in the kitchen," he suggested.

She narrowed her eyes determinedly. "Odd Siren is on the case."

As casually as she could, she snuck past the party goers and into the kitchen. An assortment of backup hor d'oeuvres sat on the counter, as well as another case of beer and several bottles of liquor. Grinning slyly, she nabbed a fifth of vodka.

"Hello."

She whipped around, lifting the bottle instinctively as a weapon. A tall, lumbering man peered at her. It took her a moment to recognize him as Jessie's husband, Pete. Hesitantly, she lowered the bottle.

"Didn't mean to scare you there," Pete said. "Thanks so much for grabbing some more bottles. We're really running low out there. Here. I'll take it out."

Mason darkened. His words were friendly, but the glint in his eyes was cold. He knew what she was really doing. He knew she knew. He was threatening her.

Her blood burned with aggression. Every inch of her buzzed with the desire to smash the bottle in his smug face. But she thought of her family, how much they wanted to make this work, and restrained herself.

Wordlessly, she handed the bottle to Pete. But her eyes never left his, responding to his subtle menace with a bit of her own.

"Thanks," he said, slipped the bottle into his jeans pocket, and headed back into the party.

Fuming, Mason returned to Eugene as emptyhanded as before. He frowned at her expression.

"What's wrong?"

Mason explained in a quiet aside. His frown deepened as he listened.

"Wait here," he said and disappeared before she could ask what he was doing.

She stood at the edge of the crowd, trying to look small and insignificant. Already she felt incredibly drained, like the whole effort had sapped the very last ounce of her.

After a few minutes, Eugene slipped quietly back into place beside her. Discreetly he nudged her, pulling back the hem of his shirt to show the vodka bottle tucked into his belt.

Mason huffed a breathless laugh. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, smirking conspiratorially.

"You want to get out of here? I myself was never one for parties."

"I thought you were a fun guy," she teased.

Without giving him a chance to respond, she grabbed his hand and snuck him out the door.

~m~

"Like, how…how in the fuck did you steal it from him?"

They sat on the roof of their house, passing the bottle back and forth between them. Mason had already drunk half of it, while Eugene had taken only three timid sips.

"I am a grand master pickpocketer," he replied.

"Shit, man. Were you…were you like, um…what are those called…those things. Those guys that saw people in half…"

"Magicians?"

"Yes! Were you- are you a maglican. A mashian. A magic man."

Eugene giggled uncontrollably. "I am indeed a maglican."

"You shush the fuck up. I am… Jesus Christ."

" _What_?"

"No, no! I'm not…I'm not Jesus, I was gonna say, 'Jesus Christ I'm a lightweight now'. I used to…I could drink, like, two of these and be fine. Now I just feel hot and sloshy."

They leaned into each other, snorting with laughter.

"So what about that kickass casserole you made the other day, huh?"

"What about it?"

"I didn't know you cooked and junk."

"It was that bad, was it?"

She punched his arm unsteadily. "Fuck you. You know what I'm trying to slur."

"Yes, I used to cook a lot before the end of the world. Or whatever this is. I had a lot of free time on my hands and none of it spent with friends. Mostly due to the fact that I had no friends."

"Aw. I would've been your friend."

"…See, I think you're trying to be nice but the shit-eating grin makes it hard to tell."

Mason laughed.

"Anyway. I had plenty of time to develop a culinary aptitude between dead end jobs. Oodles of hours sitting on my ass watching cooking shows in between sci-fi shows and pretending I could ever be more than the person I was."

Mason frowned. "You are more than you think you are."

"You have entirely too much faith in me."

"No, I have exactly enough. Seriously, don't argue with me, I could drop your ass in seconds. Man, I am such a rage ball."

"Yes, you are, it's amazing."

"Anyway, why didn't you become a cook or whatnot?"

Eugene smiled humorlessly. "I was a lazy ne'er-do-well with hilariously high ambitions. I really did want to be a scientist of some caliber."

"I always wanted to be a princess…not like the helpless, save-me-from-a-tower kind, but the kickass, won't-let-no-man-lead-my-troops-to-battle kind."

"Well, that was my backup choice."

Mason laughed so hard her whole body shook.

"Except you…I would totally save you from the fucking tower."

"Thanks."

"No problem. I love you, man."

She was too drunk to notice the way his body ridged with emotions that came too quickly and too forcefully to make sense of. After a brief pause, he murmured, "I love you, too."

They talked until Mason could no longer make sense of her own words and everything blurred into hazy snippets. She remembered Eugene helping her back through the window. She remembered collapsing on the floor and refusing to move any farther. She remembered him carrying her down the hall, muttering exasperatedly. She remembered him tucking her into bed and making a nest for himself on the floor.

She didn't remember her dreams. She only remembered that there was rain, and blood, and something she was meant to see.

She tossed and turned fitfully until she woke sometime in the night. The room spun and her head throbbed and Eugene was not beside her. She cast about desperately in the dark while the snippets swirled in her head.

The floor. Right. He was on the floor.

She crawled inelegantly out of bed to where Eugene lay. At first she was worried she'd wake him, until he held out his arms for her to crawl into.

They slept peacefully after that.


	5. Back to Your Love

Okay, all, so first thing's first: this chapter has a trigger warning for self-harm. It's not a particularly long scene, but I wouldn't want anyone to be caught off guard by it. This chapter is a bit all over the place, but I am very excited to share it with ya'll. The chapter title is "Back to Your Love" by Night Riots, a sad song with a happy, 80's sound. Also, within the chapter, I reference "Polarize" by twenty one pilots, which is a perfect song for Eugene. All the thanks for your support, I would love to hear what ya'll think.

5\. Back to Your Love

 **Mason**

Good lord, she wanted to die.

Stifling a groan, she turned over as slowly as possible in her nest of blankets and pillows, a last-ditch effort to keep from disturbing the already-churning sea of nausea.

Eugene's side was empty.

"Eugene?" she croaked, but there was no answer.

She frowned, crawling a little too hastily to her feet and having to lean against the wall so the room could stop spinning. The blood felt like it was trying to burn a hole right through her temple.

"Fuck me in the ass," she hissed.

When she stepped out into the hall, she stopped briefly to sniff the air. Something smelled thick and delicious, and her stomach let out a shameless lament. The scent led her down the stairs by the nose, where she spotted Eugene moving about the kitchen.

She paused on the bottom step. He was still wearing his dark checkered shirt from last night, rumpled from sleep. He moved about confidently, humming a low, tuneless melody. Seeing him like that, in such mundane peace, she was struck by a pang of something that made her head a little swimmy.

Eventually he turned and saw her, and a smile brightened his expression.

"Mornin', sunshine. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just dandy."

"What I'm cookin' up should help with that, but it will still be a minute. Until then, here."

He grabbed something out of the fridge and slid it across the table to her. Her mouth watered at the sight of the pickles, clearly homemade.

"I'm not ashamed to say I owe my life to those briny little cucumbers," he said. "My first- and by far worst- hangover, I ate only those. Went through three jars."

Mason bit into one and smiled. "Best hangover food," she agreed. "Also, fried chicken. Holy shit, I ate a whole bucket to myself one particularly bad time."

"You need to drink water, too. Here."

He handed her a glass, and as he did their fingers brushed. The touch brought on a rush of something warm and buzzing. She jerked away so quickly the water sloshed into her lap.

Eugene blinked at her. Mason blushed.

"Um. I have a drinking problem."

"I've known that for a while, Mason."

He tossed her a towel and she dried off, all the while trying to get a handle on her rocketing pulse. She supposed this place was setting her nerves on edge.

It didn't take him long to finish making breakfast, and when he set the omelet in front her she couldn't help looking shocked.

"You sure you weren't a chef?"

"Pretty sure. But I was a dishwasher at an Italian restaurant for a while."

"Oh, right, same difference."

He sat across from her with his own plate and dug in, though it was clear he was anxious for her critique. She took a bite and her eyes widened.

"What the fuck."

"What? What's wrong?"

" _Why the fuck were you not a chef_?"

Eugene still looked anxious. "So you like it?"

"Goddammit, yes. I wish I could cook like this."

"It's really not that difficult-"

"No. You don't understand. I once set my microwave on fire making a cup of instant ramen."

Eugene nearly choked on a mouthful of omelet. "How did you manage that?"

"I forgot to add water. Oh, and one time I melted a cutting board to my stovetop. The theme here is that I just should not be allowed in kitchens."

~m~

Rick, Daryl and Carol waited for her at their previous meeting spot, a tiny, abandoned house in the middle of the woods. All three of them looked thoroughly amused by her appearance.

"Bit bright out here?" Rick asked.

Mason glared at him through her sunglasses. "Yeah, yuck it up, you chucklefucks."

Still smirking, Carol held her bag out, revealing four handguns. "Take your pick."

"Look, I've been thinkin'… Do we really need these?"

They stared at Daryl in shock.

"I mean, if things go bad, yeah, sure, we do what we gotta do," he continued. "But it's like you said, we don't need these for that."

"Right now we don't," Carol said.

"You wanted me to try, right? Well, I'm good."

He glanced at Mason, who frowned back in confusion. Yesterday he'd been as opposed to being stripped of their guns as she had. What had changed?

Disquieted, Rick and Mason took their guns and tucked them into their belts. A little piece of her relaxed at the familiar weight of it.

They returned to the community in silence, but when Carol and Rick disappeared to play their respective roles, Daryl pulled Mason aside.

"Aaron asked me to be the new recruiter for this place," he said. "I said yes."

Mason raised an eyebrow. A recruiter, just like he had been at the prison. It was eerily fitting.

"So you want to stay here now?" she said.

"I think we should try."

She studied him quietly. "What changed?"

He was quiet for a long time, staring at the ground as though for guidance, or rescue. Mason was almost convinced he wouldn't answer at all, when he finally spoke.

"Beth told me…that I need to stay who I am. Not who I was," he said. "We ain't dead."

His voice was quiet, brimming with some deep, sobering emotion. He still wouldn't look at her. The realization came like a punch to the gut.

At some point when he'd been with Beth, he'd fallen in love with her.

Mason stared at him for a long time, swallowing repeatedly as though that would quell whatever was brewing in her chest. Anger, hurt, betrayal…none of it was exactly right. It was a complicated grief she'd never felt before.

Eventually, she cleared her throat. "Well. That's great. Aaron's pretty smart if he can figure you out. Uh, so…when do you think you'll go out?"

"He's not sure yet. Wanted to talk to Deanna first. You okay?"

Behind the gruffness of his voice she detected anxiety, and guilt. She sighed.

"I'm here," she replied.

"Yeah. Me, too. So how was the party?"

He was obviously eager to change the subject, and Mason was eager to oblige.

"Oh, it was perfectly hellish, so Eugene and I split with a bottle of vodka. I much prefer getting drunk on roofs to making stilted conversation with people whose houses I clean."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "You left with him?"

Mason bristled. Her face filled with heat, but she hoped her glare would distract from it.

"Yes. I did. What of it?"

"Nothing. I just see you spendin' quite a bit of time with him, that's all."

"And?"

"Like I said, it ain't nothing. I'll see you around."

He stalked off without another word, leaving her to wonder what the fuck had just happened.

 **Alpha**

The hunt was the purest thing. Rush of blood, searing breath, and then the kill. She could exist forever in this way, if only she could forget everything that had come before.

Beta ran beside her, his eyes wild and eager. She had never asked who he'd been before this. She knew there was a story- there always was- but she couldn't take on someone else's pain when she could barely handle her own.

Their quarry was slowing, a man and a woman who had escaped the Saviors compound weeks ago, at least according to Simon. The Wolves had chased them for a whole day, steady and ceaseless, just to exhaust them. But every game came to an end.

The greenhouse gleamed several yards ahead. Alpha and Beta drove toward it relentlessly, staying far enough back that their prey still thought there was hope. Hope was important. It made the kill that much sweeter.

Of course, prey always has a mind of its own. The man and woman skirted the greenhouse, which Alpha smiled at. She appreciated smarts in her quarry. It was fun that way.

Before they could make it very far, a line of Wolves revealed themselves, cutting off any escape. The man and woman stumbled to a halt, drawing their knives. Their eyes bulged when they realized they were surrounded.

"In there, in there, _move_!" the man shouted, shoving the woman toward the greenhouse.

The Wolves closed ranks around it, their weapons glinting in the sun, but stopped a few feet away. They looked expectantly at Beta. He grabbed the gas cans from a thicket nearby.

The man stared in horror. The woman sobbed into her hands like she couldn't bear to watch. Alpha offered the match.

The greenhouse lit up beautifully.

 **Mason**

When she returned home, she was startled to find Eugene sitting on the couch with Carl, surrounded by a gaggle of teenagers, all of whom were jumping and shouting frantically. She froze for a moment in horrible confusion, before she realized that the things in Carl and Eugene's hands were game controllers.

A smile lit her face, replacing her earlier discontent. She leaned against the doorframe to watch as they raced neck and neck in Mario Kart.

"C'mon, Carl, you got this!"

"I am just going on record right now as saying that he does _not_ got this."

" _Eugene_ , you blue shell-throwing bastard!"

"All is fair in war and Mario Kart, I'd say it's about time you learned that lesson."

Everyone groaned as Eugene passed the finish line, all except Eugene himself, who looked about rather smugly. When he spotted Mason, his eyes twinkled.

"You're just in time to watch the racing king defend his title."

"Thought you were an RPG man."

Eugene smiled and Mason smiled back, and in that fleeting moment she felt a rush of something she hadn't felt in a while. She felt her lungs again. She felt her heart. She wasn't quite so dead after all.

"Mason, why don't you race him?" Carl said, jolting her from the moment.

"I don't know, I wouldn't want to make a grown man cry."

The kids twittered excitedly. Eugene scoffed.

"It isn't wise to challenge the king in his court."

"Yeah, well, I'm the fucking queen. Pull up Rainbow Road."

They played twelve rounds before declaring it a stalemate and the kids began jostling to play again. It did not escape her notice that both Eugene and Carl were doing their best to keep her entertained. It might've made her uncomfortable if she wasn't enjoying herself so much.

Like her girl time with Maggie, Rosita and Tara, it was a silly glimpse of another world that her shattered edges clung to it desperately.

 **Alpha**

"Most people would say that it didn't have to come to this," Alpha said. "But it did."

She was alone, and had been for hours. Beta had led the Wolves away with a promise to check in on the trucks and their friends in the community. _Alexandria._ What a trite fucking name.

The fire had finally dwindled to embers and melted glass. The man and woman lay encased in it, charred but not yet changed. It was grotesquely beautiful, but then what wasn't these days?

"You can run from it all you want, but the world will have its way with you eventually. It's just a matter of whether or not it destroys you or purifies you."

She paused to examine her hands, the ever-present grime mapping her fingerprints. Hands that had broken bones. Hands that had killed so many times she'd stopped counting.

"I was so sure it would destroy me. At first. That night, those men… When the dead ones came I let that…that _monster_ …I let him drag me deeper into the woods. But fear made him stupid. I broke free and beat his head in against a tree. I fed the remains to the dead ones and when they were done with him, he was just…red.

"Fear kept me hidden for a long time. Hours. It wasn't until the rain stopped that I felt like I could move, and even then every noise was someone…it was someone coming for me. The only thing that kept me moving was the thought of _her_. She was still alive, but when I got back to that piece of shit Caddy she was gone and so was all my shit. She left. She. _Left_. And she took my shit, and she didn't even look for me, that fucking bitch."

Alpha dragged her nails repeatedly down her arms until blood welled. She barely noticed. Her eyes were faraway, sparking with agony and hate.

"A year later, I found her at this prison in Georgia with those weak-ass sheep she calls family. She was living it up there, even had herself a new little piece of ass. While I spent a year in the woods, scrounging like a dog, she was _living it up_ with her gardens and her fences and that blonde _cunt_. Like I never existed. Like she wasn't still _mine_.

"It wasn't long after that that I met up with Beta and his Wolves. They were migratory, just passing through to claim whatever they could. They were my kind of people. They knew what the rest of this world denies.

"That we were animals before, and civilization made us monsters."

 **Mason**

She awoke in the middle of the night from the same dream, except tonight was worse. She couldn't figure out why at first. Everything had happened exactly as it always did. Back at the prison with Beth. Kissing her. Beth saying that she had something to show her. Walking through the stormy woods. Passing the Cadillac. The puddle of blood…

Mason shivered and glanced up at the bed where Eugene lay. He wasn't snoring, which meant he wasn't getting much restful sleep, either. She considered waking him- she couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly, terribly wrong and she knew he could make it better. But that realization right there, that only _he_ could make her feel calm and safe, also made it hard to breathe.

She sat up quickly, clutching at her chest. Her clammy skin glistened in the moonlight streaming through the window. There wasn't enough air in this room. Her lungs were nothing but scar tissue, bulging with the pain she'd been denying since the party.

She wanted Beth.

She

wanted

Beth.

She didn't want her in a dream. She wanted her arms around her, the touch of her skin, the brush of her lips. She wanted Beth to tell her that everything was alright.

Sobs bent her double. She bit her wrist to keep from making noise. She didn't want Eugene to see her like this, not because he hadn't before, but because he _would_ make her feel better.

She didn't deserve better.

She'd let Beth die.

She'd let Gina die.

They were dead, but she could still breathe and drink vodka and play video games and taste omelets and watch the moon set in a perfect, cloudless sky.

She was a fucking plague.

Quivering with tears and panic, she scrambled to her feet and fumbled through the dark to the bathroom. There was too much pain. She needed it out. Now.

She locked the bathroom door and sat on the edge of the tub.

Running water. Something else Beth and Gina would never again experience.

It didn't take her long to pry the blade from the little plastic razor. She'd had so much practice in the past it was terrifying how second nature it felt now.

Rocking with growing hysterics, she lifted her shirt. There were all her old scars, all the ones she'd sworn were ancient history. Tonight they were a tally of all her failures.

The pain was hot and stinging, the release immediate. Her legs shook as the first wave of reprieve numbed the agony.

She cut until the tears eased, until her side flamed. She cut until blood dripped down to the waistband of her shorts and stained them with her anguish.

Perfectly weightless, she dried the blood and returned to bed. The razor she slipped into her pillow.

 **Alpha**

"We had a plan, you know. To take that prison. But this dude with an eyepatch beat us to it. Blew their shit up with a fucking tank, can you believe it? He and Negan would've been bros.

"Anyway, so the group scattered and I thought that was the end of it. Teach her a lesson, you know? Make her feel what I felt."

She paused to look up at the moon. Waning. Dying. Its silver light illuminated the scars on her face.

"It was just luck that we ended up in the same place. I still can't believe it when I think about it. You know, that kind of shit will fuck you up. Kismet, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. Cosmic weirdness. But whatever else it might be, I know it's a sign."

Her chin trembled but she would not cry. She didn't cry anymore.

"Mason told me she loved me, but she never looked for me. Never mourned me. She took that blonde bitch as her mate without a second thought. She thinks she can just live her life. Grow her gardens, have summer picnics with that pathetic herd of hers and forget me.

"But it doesn't work like that. Not anymore."

 **Mason**

The pain in her side woke her in the morning, a fire demanding to burn. Eugene was gone, likely making breakfast again, so she had time to check her wounds and change out of her bloodstained clothes.

The cuts were ragged and dark, haloed by angry red. She felt exhausted just looking at them, like she'd drained more than just her agony.

Moving achingly slow, she shuffled to the bathroom to shower. She turned the water up as high as it would go but kept it short, allowing just enough time to wash the clots away. No one would see them, but it made her feel better all the same.

Downstairs, the kitchen was loud with talk and laughter. Eugene was indeed making breakfast, side by side with Carol. Carl and his new friends were sitting around the table with Noah and Tara, all of them chattering all at once.

She blanched at the sight. It was too much, too _normal_. She couldn't be a part of it.

Eugene caught her eye across the room, but she turned and went back upstairs.

~m~

He knocked a while later and timidly peeked inside. She glanced at him from her nest on the floor, where she'd spent the last half hour tracing the outline of the razor through her pillow.

"You don't have to knock, you know. This is your room, too."

"I just didn't…if you were…I didn't want to just barge in."

"Eugene, I only have orgies in abandoned barns when the moon is at its zenith. You know that."

Her voice sounded flat, even to her, but she couldn't find the strength to hide it.

Eugene frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Just tired. Didn't sleep very well."

"Nightmares again?"

Mason turned her flinch into a shrug. "Just…didn't sleep."

"Mason. You can't lie to the best liar in the multiverse. He is keenly aware of all the tricks and ticks that accompany deception and you do not play your hand very well at all."

"Referring to yourself in the third person now, huh? Douche."

"Mason-"

"Look, I'm fine, okay. I just really want to be left alone, so maybe I can get some sleep. Is that okay with you?"

The words came out snarlier than she intended, but she only felt the guilt from far away. All she wanted was to close her eyes and never have to open them again. She wanted everyone to leave her alone.

Eugene shrunk back, and she had to look away from the hurt on his face.

"I'm sorry. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

When he was gone, she clenched her jaw to keep from screaming. It dissolved into tears instead.

 **Eugene**

Mason was still asleep by the time he crawled into bed. It was her turn to use it, but it looked like she was finally getting some rest so he didn't dare disturb her.

It took him a while to drift off, but when he finally did he felt strangely alert, as though somehow he was still awake.

Wherever he was, he didn't recognize it. He was sitting on a rooftop under a swollen moon, which cast enough light to illuminate a fence surrounding the building and endless forest beyond.

"You're here!"

He turned, startled by the unfamiliar voice, and his heart flipped.

Beth hurried toward him, grinning like he was her dearest friend, and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

"I've been wantin' to meet you since Atlanta!"

Eugene stared at her, swaying a bit. "Uh…me- me, too?"

Beth laughed. "Sit with me for a bit. I made tea."

He obeyed dizzily and she sat across from him, offering a cup that appeared seemingly from nowhere. He held it close to his chest, too rattled to drink. Songs played from somewhere, songs he recognized from Mason's iPod, though he couldn't see any kind of music device.

"I like the place you guys found," Beth said. "It's like a real community. I always dreamed of findin' a place like that. Even here, sometimes I wanted somethin' more. I know that's kind of stupid. This place was good to us for a long time."

 _The prison,_ he thought belatedly. _We're at the prison._

Beth nodded, encouraging and sympathetic like she could sense his bewilderment.

"Yes, we are. It's home base for me now. But I can go wherever I want. It's amazin'. Sometimes I wish Mason could see- are you gonna drink your tea?"

Eugene sipped obediently. The taste was ethereal. Like drinking the sky.

He looked at her, at the blue eyes and kind smile Mason had often described to him.

"Is this…is this real?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"Well…my first inclination is to assume that this is in fact nothing more than a dream. I like to think I am a man of reason. But…it _feels_ real."

Beth touched a hand to her chest. "Here."

"Yes," he whispered. "Although I must confess a desperate lacking in my ability to decipher any matters whatsoever of the heart."

"The heart doesn't reason."

"It doesn't."

"Yet from day one you knew exactly how you felt about Mason."

Guilt and shame flooded him with heat. "Beth, I…I promise you, I would never have…I mean, she loved you. She loved you so much. She still does."

Beth giggled. "I know. I also know how she feels about you. I know how you saved her. Thank you."

"I didn't save her. She saved herself."

"Don't you remember what she told you, about how she was after Gina?"

Of course he did. One of their many late night conversations on the road.

"She would've been like that after me. She came very close. She might not have made it out at all if it weren't for you. For all of the group, but you especially."

Eugene stared down into his cup, the reflection of the moon within. He didn't have the heart to tell her that she was wrong, that he didn't deserve praise, and least of all from her.

The song changed. It wasn't one he'd heard but Beth lit up with recognition.

"Remember this song," she instructed. "Mason will."

Before he could reply, Beth hopped to her feet, her eyes sparkling like blue galaxies.

"Dance with me."

She grabbed his hand.

And he woke up.

 **Mason**

When she opened her eyes, it was dark. The room was utterly silent, no reassuring snores from Eugene, which immediately filled her with anxiety. Disoriented, she lurched to her feet and fumbled for the door.

The hallway was dark, but a flickering glow emanated from the dining room. Mason crept slowly down the stairs, stifling the urge to reach for a weapon.

Before she reached the bottom, she paused, recognizing a song from her iPod. She peeked around the corner and was unsurprised to find Eugene sitting alone at the table, candlelight illuminating his solemn expression.

Part of her wanted to turn around and hide under the covers. She didn't want to face him and she couldn't make sense of why. Everything felt raw and tangled inside her.

But her body moved of its own accord, orbiting toward what it recognized as safety.

Eugene opened his mouth when he saw her, but she shook her head and gestured for silence. She sat across from him and stared into the candlelight, bruising her vision with spots.

They said nothing for a long time, simply listening as the iPod shuffled from song to song. Occasionally they would glance at each other, but there was nothing that needed to be said.

Several songs in, one came up that brought a smile to her face, though it ripped a hole in her chest all the same. Across from her, Eugene's eyes widened as though he recognized it, and then he looked at her.

He swallowed hard, pushed out from the table and offered her his hand.

Mason stared, rigid with shock.

 _"Dude, no, seriously, I can't dance."_

 _"Dancin' is just lettin' your body feel the music. I know you know how to do that."_

Dancing in their tiny prison cell.

Dancing on the rooftop beneath the moon.

Mason held absolutely still while the memories scorched her.

 _Dance with me._

The words came like an echo, an almost-nonexistent breath along her skin, but it was _Beth_ , Beth's voice, Beth's warmth like the briefest kiss of sunlight on the back of her neck.

She took his hand.

Neither of them knew what to do at first. They were clumsy and awkward, treading on each other's toes, tripping over their own. The music was sad and happy at the same time. Somehow they were exactly the same.

Eventually there were smiles, and laughter. Fingers fumbling like butterflies. The music swept through them like light through a prism, shattering into color.

When the song ended, he pulled her against his chest and she fell willingly, breathless and laughing. They turned in a slow circle. His heart beat against her cheek. She grew quiet listening to it.

She looked up, and there was happiness in his eyes, and pain. There was fear in them.

His blue, blue eyes.

That same _something_ from yesterday jarred through her and she pulled away.

She fled upstairs, leaving him alone in the dark.


	6. Internet Friends

Okay, all, so first off, thank you guys for your reviews, it really makes my day! Today's title chapter is "Internet Friends" by Knife Party, the same song from this episode- it's just perfect, so I didn't feel the need to nix it. Also! At the end of this chapter, I was planning on revealing a little bit about where I plan on taking this story (no spoilers or anything), so if you're interested check it out, if you'd rather not, you don't have to. Thanks again for your support, let me know what you think!

6\. Internet Friends

Mason sat on the porch with Daryl as the sun came up, sipping instant coffee and reveling in the dewy coolness of the morning.

After…whatever the fuck that was with Eugene…she'd tried to bury herself in sleep. But she'd slept a solid eighteen hours yesterday, and she was wide awake. Unwilling to stay in the house a moment longer, she'd gone outside for a walk and found Daryl pacing a circuit around the neighborhood.

They pretended there was no strain between them and just talked, something they hadn't done in a long time. It wasn't about anything that mattered, which was a relief.

When they found themselves at Mason's house, they snuck inside and made themselves coffee as quietly as possible. Mason felt vaguely like a little kid smuggling snacks while her parents slept.

Now, sitting on the porch swing with their last lukewarm sips, Daryl glanced at her.

"It's today," he said. "Aaron and I are heading out on a scouting run. Don't know when we'll be back."

She blinked, feeling an irrational rush of grief.

"Oh. Well, you'll be okay, right? I mean, you'll be safe? Do you need someone else to come with you? I could-"

"Nah, I've been doin' this since the beginning. We'll be fine." He paused, his eyes piercing. "Will you?"

"Me?" Her voice came out as a breathless flutter. "What…what do you mean? Of course I'll be fine."

"You lyin' to me?"

 _Why the fuck can I not lie like Eugene?_

"Look, I'm just…it's been…"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, I get it. I just want to know that if I leave, you'll still be here when I come back."

She knew he was remembering it, the way they'd found her that very first day in the woods. The sting in her side flared like it could remember it, too.

"Of course," she said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere, Daryl."

From inside the house came the muffled buzz of voices as the others woke up. Daryl set his cup aside and got to his feet.

"I need to get ready. Aaron wants to leave as soon as possible."

Before she could think better of it, Mason jumped up and hugged him. He hesitated a moment before hugging her back.

"I promise to be here if you promise to come home," she murmured.

"So this is home now, huh?"

"Shut up."

When he pulled away, his expression was torn, like he needed to say something but didn't want to. He chewed on his lip for a moment before touching her arm.

"Stick with Eugene, okay?" he said. "Not out there. But in here. Stick with him."

It shocked Mason enough that all she could do was gape, and by the time her voice returned he had already gone.

~m~

Mason leaned against the shed, watching Noah, Tara and Glenn pack their gear into Aiden's van. The power had gone out that morning, and they were sending a reconnaissance mission to a warehouse to pick up inverters.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Eugene showed Noah a little black box. In return, Noah offered a gun.

Eugene blinked. "Oh, no thank you."

"Dude, just take it. You gotta protect yourself."

"Not if I don't go."

"We're not driving all that way just to drive back with the wrong shit," Aiden said.

Mason rolled her eyes. He was right, of course, but she loathed him all the same.

"There's a dozen of these," Eugene said. "They're consistent in appearance across manufacturers. The shit will be right. I will install said shit. Then the grid will be fully operational again."

Noah rolled his eyes and shoved the gun into his hand. Eugene looked at her for help and she couldn't help smiling a little.

"I'll come with," she offered.

Aiden peered down at her like he'd smeared shit on his shoes. "You're not a runner, you're a housekeeper."

"A housekeeper who knows what she's doing," Glenn intervened. "She was out there as long as the rest of us were. She gets shit done. Besides, her and Eugene work well together."

Ignoring the heat saturating her face, she threw Aiden a wicked grin. "Like two harmonious violas."

"We're kind of a package deal," Eugene jumped in.

"They are," Maggie said, appearing from around the van with Deanna and her husband, Reg. "And you'll be glad to have them both on your team."

Aiden glared at each of them, obviously resenting how casual they seemed to feel about his authority. But when he glanced at Deanna she nodded.

"Let her go with you."

"Fine. Grab a gun and let's go. I don't want to waste any more daylight."

So Mason climbed into the back of the van with the rest of them. Eugene sat next to her and she tried not to make it obvious how nervous this made her.

Aiden and Nicholas sat up front. The van roared to life and music began blaring through the speakers.

Music she recognized.

Music that filled her blood with dread.

Her lungs constricted. She took a sharp breath but it wasn't enough.

" _And now you're going to die._ "

"Could you…could you turn that off?" she said. She thought she did a good job of keeping the hysteria from her voice, but of course Eugene heard it. He peered at her, concerned and confused, but she couldn't answer.

"What?" Aiden shouted.

"I said could you turn that off?"

Without turning around, he flipped her the bird.

Heart pounding, she put her head in her hands and tried to think of something else. But the music was so loud it rattled her brain and there was no way to block it out.

 _(They were)_

Her insides quivered with horror, with _terror_.

 _(driving)_

As though, somehow, what happened that night was about to happen again.

 _(through the rain)_

 _(they were driving through the rain and)_

Eugene said her name from faraway. Was he underwater? Was she? She may as well have been. Why was there no air in this fucking van?

Gently he guided her hand from her face, squeezed her fingers tight in his own.

 _(lights flashed)_

"Mason."

 _(in the rearview mirror)_

A warm weight pressed comfortingly against her side, steadying her.

"Look at me."

Trembling, she looked at him. Dimly she realized that Noah, Tara and Glenn were watching anxiously, but there was no room for embarrassment. She kept her eyes trained on Eugene's.

"Breathe, sunshine, okay? You can do it. Just breathe with me."

Slowly, he guided her down from her panic attack. At some point the song changed, and that helped. After a while, she was able to stow the dark memory back in the lockbox where she kept it.

"You alright?" Eugene said.

"Yeah," she rasped. "Thanks."

He didn't ask about the song, for which she was immensely grateful.

~m~

When they arrived at the warehouse, Mason and Eugene stuck close together. She felt absolutely drained from her panic attack and he was clearly terrified. She reminded herself that this was the first time he'd been outside Alexandria's walls since joining them.

"Looks like that door's our fastest way in and out," Aiden said, nodding in the direction of a side entrance.

"We should know all the exits first," Glenn said. "So there's a plan if things go south."

"We already got one," Nicholas said. "It's called going out the front."

Aiden laughed. Mason and Tara exchanged disgusted glances.

"Alright, alright," he said. "We'll do a perimeter check. Just in case."

Mason nodded to Eugene and they headed around the south side. It didn't take long before the silence between them grew astoundingly heavy, like summer clouds pregnant with lightning. Mason began to wish that he'd gone with Tara instead.

"So last night," he finally said. "Or this morning, I suppose. I would just like to apologize for using your iPod without prior approval. I just…couldn't stand the silence."

"It's okay," she said quickly, wishing he just wouldn't bring it up. "I told you, you can use it whenever you want. I don't care."

"I remember. It's just that it felt discourteous and I didn't want you to assume that I riffle through your possessions while you sleep."

She elbowed him teasingly. "Well, you saying that makes me think that you do."

"So are you okay? I mean…are _we_ okay? Yesterday…last night…I…"

Quickly Mason looked away, before he could spot the pink she felt slowly but surely coloring her cheeks. "We're fine," she said shortly. "C'mon, we better pick up the pace."

They reconvened with the others at the side door, where Glenn informed them that the front was not an option after all. Apparently the front lot was full of walkers. Nicholas scoffed a little at this, like he didn't quite believe him, but Aiden accepted it with surprising ease.

Glenn and Aiden led the way into the warehouse. Everyone spread out in groups of two to search the aisles. A group of walkers clustered behind a fence, but there was no way for them to escape.

Mason followed dutifully behind Eugene, keeping an eye out for any unexpected guests while he searched for the inverters.

"Here," he said, flashing a light on a box that didn't look any more descript than the others. But when Mason cut the box open, it revealed a dozen of the same black boxes Eugene had.

"Aces, Dr. Deceit."

"Let's get back to the others."

Snarling sounded close by before they could move. Mason drew her fire poker, peering through the shelf to see a walker in full riot gear shambling toward Aiden and Nicholas.

"It's got armor," Glenn called, but Aiden ignored him, choosing instead to shoot haphazardly at it.

Mason's heart stopped when she spotted the grenade strapped to its chest.

"Wait, wait," Glenn said, spotting it in the same second. "Stop shooting!"

A moment later, the grenade went off and the world disappeared in a flare of white.

~m~

 _They were driving through the rain and the music was loud. They were laughing because the lyrics were funny, because the bass rattled their ribs, because in that moment it was just them in a dark, dark world, and for once this was not a curse._

 _Lights flashed in the rearview mirror. Mason blinked, blinded by their sudden appearance._

 _"Cocksuckers!" Gina crowed, leaning out the window to flip them off. Mason fought the urge to pull her back inside._

 _The car honked repeatedly, roaring up behind them. Mason toed the gas pedal, watching her gauges, wincing every time she felt the tires hydroplane._

 _Gina sat back in her seat, rain-soaked and wild. "You should pull over. I got a little something I'd like to share with them," she said, indicating the fire poker._

 _Mason said nothing. Her heart was thundering with foreboding, her hands clenched so tight around the steering wheel her knuckles had turned ghostly pale._

 _With a rumble of dominance, the car rammed into them, hard enough that they wavered wildly and Gina was thrown up against the glove compartment._

 _They looked at each other. Now Gina's eyes were wide, mirroring Mason's alarm._

"And now you're going to die."

 _Another crash and they careened off the road._

~m~

"Eu-gene."

Mason sat up in a whirl of smoke and specks of packing peanuts. Her side blazed. Looking down, she caught sight of the jagged edge of a shelf, dripping with her blood.

" _Eugene,_ " she croaked again.

"I'm here," Eugene replied, peeking over a pile of boxes. The fear on his face put a knot in her stomach. "Tara's hurt."

Clumsily she scaled the boxes and knelt next to him. Tara lay sprawled on the floor, leaking blood from a wound on her temple.

"Shit," Mason hissed.

A flashlight haloed them.

"Is she breathing?" Glenn asked.

"Yes, but she-"

"The walkers are loose!" Noah exclaimed. Glenn swiveled the flashlight to illuminate them, moving steadily through the maze of leaning shelves and exploded boxes.

" _Fuck_. We need to go. Now."

"Where?" Mason asked.

"There's an office, just behind you. I'll get Tara."

While they hurried through the broken shelving, Glenn and Nicholas brought up the rear, hoisting Tara between them. Mason cleared a desk off with shaking hands. They laid her down for Eugene to examine.

"She has serious head trauma. She's losing blood fast," he said.

"How do we stop it?" Noah's voice was calm and steady, reminding Mason that he'd spent a year living in a hospital.

"First aid kit was in Aiden's pack, but it got blown to hell," Nicholas said. "There's another one in the van."

"She's on her way out, we need to get her there, _now_ ," Eugene replied.

An agonized scream interrupted them. Through the office window they could just see Aiden's body, impaled on the spike of a crippled shelf, start to writhe.

Mason's stomach turned.

"He's alive," Nicholas whimpered. "Oh my god, he's alive."

"We gotta get him," Noah said.

"If we pull Aiden off that, we could kill him."

"So you're saying we _leave_ him?"

"Save him," Eugene spoke up sharply, startling them all. "She'd do it, I know she would."

His hands were covered in Tara's blood, and Mason felt the room sway on its axis.

"I'll stay with her, I'll keep her safe, I assure you."

Glenn nodded. "Alright, the rest of us will knock them back. Nicholas, you still have that flare?"

"Y-yeah."

"You fire the flare over the shelves. That'll draw some of them away."

They gathered at the door, readying their weapons. Mason threw a last glance at Eugene before they spilled back out into the warehouse.

Nicholas shot the flare to the right, pulling a good portion of the walkers toward it. Mason, Noah and Glenn moved in a tight circle, cutting a path through the rest.

When they reached Aiden he was sobbing, coughing up blood. Glenn and Nicholas inspected him while Noah and Mason kept watch.

"It's gonna be okay," Glenn said. "We're gonna get you out of here. But I need you to stay quiet, okay? Can you do that?"

Shadows moved among the shattered racks, flickering through the red of the flare. Mason kept glancing toward the office, quaking with anxiety for Tara and Eugene.

"One, two, three-"

Aiden barked out a gurgling cry. Mason looked back to see him shuddering on the spikes, pushing Glenn and Nicholas away as they tried to pull him free.

"Walkers," Noah said, recalling her attention. They took down six with their guns but a whole wave of them was approaching from the left, where the flare had dwindled.

"They're coming," Mason growled.

"Just…just _go_ ," Aiden whimpered wetly. "It was us. The others before…they didn't panic. We did. We left them behind. It was us."

"They're here!"

Noah reached back to grab Glenn, seconds before the walkers descended. Nicholas had already fled so they cut a path after them. Aiden's screams started up again, only to descend into sloshing gasps.

Bringing up the rear, Mason paused when she spotted movement from the direction of the office.

Her heart stuttered to a halt.

There Eugene stood, halfway to an exit door with Tara slung over one shoulder. Walkers surrounded him, cutting him off from any escape. He shot a few of them down with the gun Noah had given him, but they just kept coming.

The closest snapped its teeth just inches from his throat.

Mason sucked in a sharp breath.

 _(And)_

She'd lost Gina.

 _(now)_

She'd lost Beth.

 _(you're)_

But not him.

 _(going)_

She would not lose Eugene.

 _(to)_

She. Would. Not.

 _(die)_

She charged into the herd, springing over tattered boxes with new energy. Her fire poker swung in a wide arc, severing the heads of several walkers and opening a path to Eugene.

The closest one descended.

She had only the barest second to slip between them, casting out blindly to stop it.

Its teeth missed her hand by a hair.

She mashed her palm against its nose, and the cartilage gave way with a sickening squish. It snarled, swiping its arms out as though to wrap her in a perverse hug.

Bracing herself against Eugene, she kicked it away, bowling several others over in the process.

"Mason-"

"Go!"

She pushed him toward the exit before the walkers could recover, and once they were outside she helped carry Tara to the van.

"Your hand. Did that walker bite you?" he demanded once they were inside. He was frantic, fluttering over her like he was afraid to touch her. It reminded her of how she'd been that day by the fire truck, waiting for him to wake up.

A hysterical giggle bubbled out of her. "Nope. Fucker has bad aim."

"Let me see."

She gave him her hand, and once he'd ascertained that she was bite-free, he let her climb into the back to bandage Tara's head.

"Where are the others?" he asked while she worked.

"I don't know. They were trying to get Nicholas back and I think he was running for the entrance."

"But Glenn said it was swarmed."

"What do you expect? Old Saint Nick ain't the ripest bushel of apples."

Her tone was casual, but in the back of her throat she felt panic surging like bile.

"Hey," Eugene said. "It's okay. I know a way to clear the entrance for them."

Mason hopped back into the passenger seat, her fingers sticky with blood. "Oh, yeah?" God, she felt manic.

"Yeah. Something a music freak taught me."

His smile was thin but teasing. It made her want to cry.

 _Fucking Christ, get a grip._

He started the van and turned the music up high. The CD had cycled back to the song, the Knife Party song, the rain and blood song, but though it filled her with dread it was no longer the same.

She could've lost Eugene. Right then that felt like the only terror that could touch her.

He reached to change the song but Mason shook her head.

"Leave it," she shouted. "We gotta go."

Hesitantly he obeyed, but as he drove he kept casting anxious glances at her. She kept her eyes trained on Tara, watching for any signs of consciousness.

When they pulled up to the front of the warehouse, the walkers were indeed clustered at the front doors, where Noah, Glenn and Nicholas were trapped. Eugene slowed the van and he and Mason leaned out the windows to call to the walkers.

"Come and get us, cocksuckers!"

They followed like moths to flames. Eugene led the flock around the building, down a back road into the woods, and when they were far enough away he gunned the engine and left them in the dust.

There was no sign of the others at the entrance, but walkers had flooded out of the revolving doors. Mason's throat tightened.

"Do you see them?"

"Negative."

Nicholas came sprinting toward them as they cruised around the side. Eugene braked, exchanging an apprehensive glance with Mason.

"We gotta go. Now," Nicholas said.

"Where are Glenn and Noah?" Mason demanded.

"Just let me in! We have to leave!"

Eugene turned the engine off and stepped out of the van. Mason could tell by the set of his spine that he was scared, but his tone was no-nonsense.

"Not until you tell me where they are."

Nicholas's eyes darkened. "You either get out of my way and come back with me, or I leave you here to die with them."

Winter swept through her bloodstream. To die with them? Were they dead?

Eugene stared him down for a moment before drawing his gun. Nicholas let out a faint snarl and yanked him away from the van.

Rage seared the ice from Mason's veins. She launched herself over the driver's seat, reaching for her own gun, but before she could scramble out of the car Glenn appeared. He knocked Nicholas to the pavement and punched him repeatedly in the face.

Eugene and Mason stared as he lurched to his feet. He was covered in walker blood and his eyes were full of tears.

"Where's Noah?" Eugene murmured.

But they knew.

Glenn swallowed. "Help me get Nicholas in the van."

NOTE: Hey, guys. So I was recently messaged and asked if I had an outline for this story. While I don't want to give too much away, I thought now might be a good time to confess that I have really been disappointed in the most recent seasons of TWD (7 and 8) and my later seasons are going to differ greatly. There's still going to be war and Negan and all that, but it's going to go the way I imagined it in my head (and hopefully ya'll think it's as badass as I do lol). Also, S7/8's Eugene is NOT my Eugene. I hate what they've done with his character quite frankly. So (my god I really hope I didn't scare any of you off) that's it in a nutshell. Didn't want to give away any surprises, but it's always exciting to me when I actually have an outline lol. Anyway, much love.

xoxo themuse


	7. Bury It

Okay, guys, so there's a trigger warning for today's chapter (mentions of abuse, self-harm) just so everyone is aware. This chapter is one I've been looking forward to for a while, and I'm really, really excited about it. Hopefully ya'll like it, too. The title is "Bury It" by Chvrches, a song I love very much. As always, thank you all for your reviews and support. Let me know what you think!

7\. Bury It

 **Mason**

"I'm sorry to bother you so early. I just…my bergamot levels were getting dangerously low."

"It's no bother at all, dear. I'm usually up with the sun anyway."

Mason sat at Bill's kitchen table, tracing the rim of a tea cup with her pinky. He sat across from her with his own cup, smiling blandly at it like he didn't know she was there for a reason. But of course he was wiser than that.

"So," Mason began. "You know how yesterday I went on that run? With Aiden and the others?"

Bill nodded soberly. "Yes, I'd heard that."

News of Aiden and Noah's deaths had spread like wildfire through the community, but because Nicholas and Glenn provided conflicting stories on the matter, none of the Alexandrians knew quite what to think.

Mason sighed shakily. "When we were in the warehouse, there was this moment. My…friend… He was cornered by walkers. And I saved him, but…" She paused to sigh again. Her hands trembled so badly that tea sloshed over the side of the cup.

"I would be willing to die for my family. I would die for any of them. But with him, it was like…I couldn't stand the thought of him not existing. I knew if he…if he wasn't here, I couldn't be, either."

Bill nodded at his own cup, like it was the one telling the story.

"And what do you think that means?" he asked.

"I think…"

But she couldn't say it. Couldn't think it. Couldn't even begin to process it.

"I don't know. Everything lately has been…just completely fucked up."

"Of course it has," Bill said. "On top of everything else- surviving in the woods, fending off cannibals, reacclimating to society- on top of all that, you lost someone you were in love with. It isn't easy under the best of circumstances."

"I think about Beth all the time. There's never a moment where she's not there, somehow. I can't dream without seeing her. In some ways it's like she's not even gone, and that's nice. But… When I lost her I thought I lost everything, except I _didn't_. And it wasn't just that I wasn't alone, it wasn't that my family was there to keep me going. It was-"

 _(Eugene)_

"-my friend."

"The one you saved."

"Yes. Except he keeps saving _me_ , and I don't…I can't…"

Tears blurred her vision. She glared down at her tea to hide them.

"Why don't you tell me about him?" Bill suggested. "I'd like to hear about this man you think so much of."

"Well he's… He's smart. Smarter than me, or at least in different ways. He's funny, he can always make me laugh. He's…braver than he wants to believe he is. He has the potential to be so much and he doesn't see it, or he's scared to. He makes me feel like I have that potential, too. Like I have a place in this world. He's like my… I mean, he gets me."

Her whole body was shaking. Was it hot in here? Was she spontaneously combusting? Eugene could probably tell her. He'd probably spout off a minute-by-minute inventory of exactly what kind of coup her molecules were performing.

She wished he was there.

She wished she didn't wish that.

A tear dropped delicately into her tea.

"How the fuck-" She broke off, swallowing a sob. "This isn't right. None of this is right. I can't deal with this."

She was ashamed of her glistening eyes, her flaming cheeks. She was ashamed of the weakness in her limbs and her dizzy, rushing heart.

But Bill appraised her seriously, without pity. He looked so much like Hershel in that moment.

"Listen to me, dear," he said. "I wasn't much older than you when I lost my first wife. Helena. One of the loveliest souls you could ever hope to meet, but she fought depression for many years and it eventually claimed her. My world was shattered. I was a rudderless man, simply trying not to sink, not at all concerned with where I was going.

"Janet was there for me. She was the only one who could pull me from the darkness. There was no denying that what we felt for each other was beyond friendship and we were married within a year."

Mason flinched.

"Now you may think me the lowest man in existence, loving another woman so soon after losing my Helena, and I struggled for years with that, but there is not one part of me that regrets it. Not one damn iota. Life does not happen at your convenience, Mason. But sometimes it gives you moonlight when you thought there would only be darkness."

The words ran through her like a knife, scraping her ribcage. Her hands gripped the tea cup hard enough that she worried it might break.

"I should go," she finally said. Her voice was low and hoarse.

"Don't do that."

She looked up, startled by his concern. He reached across the table and patted her hand.

"I don't have any right to tell you how to live your life, dear, but I would hate to see you pass up a chance at happiness. It's so fragile these days. You deserve someone who will bring you light."

 _I don't deserve shit._

Averting her gaze, Mason got to her feet. "Thanks for letting me bother you," she said. "But I really should be going. I'm…Rick wants me for something."

"Mason-"

"Thanks for the tea."

She escaped quickly before she could break any more of her heart.

~m~

Her cuts were healing up nicely, but the wound from yesterday was deep and needed frequent re-bandaging. She'd refused to visit Pete to get it checked out, so the bandages were merely strips of fabric from her old, tattered clothes. She couldn't find it in herself to worry that it might get infected. She felt numb, teetering on the edge of feeling too much.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed and had only just taken the binding off when Eugene opened the door. Frantically she drew her shirt down but from the way he stared at her she knew he'd seen.

"Mason," he whispered.

She glared at him. "Get out."

 _The scars, he'd seen the scars, he'd seen-_

"How…how did that happen?"

" _Get. Out._ "

Eugene swallowed convulsively. "Did you do that?"

"Eugene, get the fuck out!"

"No."

Mason leapt to her feet, quivering with rage and fear. She felt like the thinnest glass. Winter-brittle.

"Fine. I'll go."

"Mason, please, if you're…if you're hurting yourself, I-"

"What? You'll what, Eugene? You think you can help me? You can't. _I am not your problem_."

His eyes welled with anguish. "Mason…"

She swept past him, snatching her iPod from the dresser. " _Please_. Just…just give me a little space, okay? I need…I need some air."

She left before he could respond. It felt like she was fleeing too often these days.

 **Eugene**

He stared at the spot on his arm. The little patch of discoloration was perfectly round. Perfectly the size of a cigarette.

It wasn't from his mother. He always had to remind himself of that. She had never been that for him, she'd just acted like it sometimes. When it was convenient.

He sighed and stood up from the bed.

He needed some air, too.

Rosita was sitting with Tara in the infirmary. She nodded to him as he sat down but said nothing. He wondered if she would ever forgive him.

The room was silent aside from the ticking of a clock and the occasional rustle as Rosita turned a page in the magazine she was reading. It felt disturbingly like a hospital, an actual hospital, and he had the sudden urge to run.

How many times had he woken up in hospitals? That smell of iodoform and cafeteria food and sickness, doctors and their questions…

 _(Has your mommy ever done anything that hurt you?)_

No, of course not. Not in any way that would leave bruises. She was too smart for that, except on rare occasions, like with the cigarette. But that had been his fault. He shouldn't have thought he could stand up to her, stand up for himself…

 _(You're lucky I don't cut that smartass mouth right off your face)_

He stifled a whimper and closed his eyes.

He remembered studying the human anatomy in books while the other kids played on swing sets and jungle gyms.

He remembered mapping out his circulatory system.

He remembered drawing X's on the places where he would bleed out the fastest with a red marker.

He remembered stealing the knife from the kitchen one night when his mother was out and his father in a drunken slumber.

He remembered being _nine years old_ and laying in that bathtub and sobbing into his hands because he couldn't do it, he _couldn't do it_ , he was a coward, he was _nothing_ , his mom was right.

He remembered putting the knife away, just exactly how he'd found it. Going to school the next morning like nothing had ever happened.

Screaming on the inside. Shutting down on the outside.

He couldn't show emotion. He couldn't.

He became the perfect liar.

 _Best liar in the multiverse._

At some point the memories melted into uneasy dreams. His mother slamming groceries on the counter and Eugene cringing away because he'd been bad, he hadn't cleaned up like she'd told him to.

His father sharing a sip of beer with Eugene when his mother wasn't looking, telling him his intelligence was the only way he could escape.

Mason walking through the door with a bottle of vodka and a silly grin, extending her hand to Eugene and telling him that he was more than he thought he was…

Something crashed loudly.

Eugene jolted out of his restless snooze. He was back in the infirmary, and Rosita was picking something up off the ground with a smug smile, and someone was sitting next to him.

He stared at Abraham, who stared back as though caught between fight and flight. Eventually Eugene could no longer stand the silence.

"Good afternoon," he said.

Abraham said nothing.

"I've been…considering implications I hadn't wanted to before now. I will remark about those at this time." He paused to swallow nervously. " _You_ got us here. All I did was craft a top shelf lie, to which a person with strength and heroism could apply their talents. My bet was you needed that. I thank you."

Finally, Abraham looked at him. Really looked at him, for the first time in nearly a month.

"I am sorry," Eugene said. His voice shook. "And I mean both emphatically and in equal measure."

After a long, long pause, Abraham nodded. "I'm…I'm sorry, too."

"That's utterly and completely unnecessary."

"I almost _killed you_."

Eugene blinked. "Well…yes. There's that."

They fell silent after that, and though it took a few minutes for Eugene's heart to stop thundering he felt better.

"So. Now that we're friends again, I was wondering if you might be amenable to assisting me in a new endeavor."

Abraham arched an eyebrow in disbelief. Eugene smirked a little.

"I assure you, there is nothing cross-country about it."

~m~

" _Get off your grisly ass, soldier_! _Do you want to be walker chuck_?"

Eugene struggled to his feet, covered in sweat and dirt. He tried to ignore the little audience watching his training- Carol, Rosita, Carl and some of his friends. It just made his face flush even redder.

"Again!" Abraham barked, and looking at him, his sturdy posture and iron muscles, Eugene couldn't believe he had ever thought this was a good idea.

Still he moved, in the way Abraham had shown him, and when Abraham made to knock him on his ass, Eugene blocked him with his arm.

"Yes!" Abraham exclaimed. "That's more like it."

"Alright, Eugene!" Carl cheered.

Eugene ducked his head shyly. "I think now would be an ideal time for a water break. Pause on a high note."

Abraham shrugged. "It's your dime, brother."

It was a relief to rest for a bit. They'd been at it for at least two hours now, and Abraham was a rigorous drill sergeant to say the very least.

As he sipped his water, Eugene's eyes were drawn to the gate, where Michonne and Sasha had appeared.

The water caught in his throat like it had suddenly turned to glass. Was Mason back yet? Had she returned to the house?

"Michonne," he called. "While you were out, did you see Mason?"

She shook her head. "Did she leave?"

"I don't know," he confessed, his stomach twisting with guilt. "She said she needed air, but that was several hours ago. It's possible she is back at the house as we speak, but…"

He trailed off, realizing by Michonne's grim expression that she understood his anxiety.

"I'll head back out," she said. Then she surprised him by laying a comforting hand on his arm. "You check around here. See if she did go back to the house."

"Yes, I'll do that."

But the house was empty, and no one he talked to had seen Mason since that morning.

The guilt bubbled into panic. Why the fuck had he let her go? Why hadn't he gone with her, done _something_?

Because he hadn't wanted to push her. Not if she was volatile. Not if she was hurting herself. He knew full well that sometimes the most well-meaning intentions generated the opposite result.

Wringing his hands, he stared miserably at the gate. He knew she was out there somewhere, and he knew she needed him. The thought of going out there nearly choked him with terror, but…

He had his knife. He could borrow a gun. Michonne had already left with Rosita but perhaps he could catch up with them.

And even if he couldn't, Mason still needed him.

He turned and hurried for the armory.

 **Mason**

The Alexandrian at the gate didn't question where Mason was going, probably because she still looked feral enough to take care of herself. She had her iPod and her fire iron, her handgun and a roll of metal twine. There was something quiet and dangerous and unquantifiable inside her. It lurked in places she thought once dead.

She skirted the road in favor of the trees. The day was gorgeous and warm, the sky brilliant blue. It seemed unfair for everything else to seem so untroubled when she herself was a goddamn mess.

She was irrationally happy when a few walkers crossed her path. She swung her iron like she was playing baseball. She had fun with them. Jesus, it was just good to feel _something_ other than terror, something other than grief or guilt or whatever the fuck else was keeping her from sleeping.

 _Life does not happen at your convenience, Mason._

Yeah, no shit.

When she saw the trees she fell in love with their perfection. Five of them all clustered in a neat semi-circle as though heaven-sent, although she doubted heaven would ever consider sending her a damn thing.

 _But sometimes it gives you moonlight when you thought there would only be darkness._

She set to work immediately, falling back into old habits with terrifying ease. She unspooled the wire, wrapped it in wide, concentric arcs around her fortuitous trees. She didn't bother digging the trench this time, and there was no solar charger to hook a boombox up to. It didn't matter. She could call the horde without it.

Turning her iPod up as loud as it would go, she hung the headphones around her neck and began to sing. Her voice was strong and wild. Angry. She sat rigidly against the fortuitous trees, knees crooked in a triangle, fists clenched against them. Her thoughts whirled, tangling like Christmas lights.

 _Why don't you tell me about him?_

He was smart. Funny. Braver than he dared to be.

He was not a woodsman by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew how to build water filters.

He was an RPG man, but he crushed it at strategy games.

He loved animals, and thought that aliens built the pyramids, and believed DC was superior to Marvel.

He smiled more for her than he did for anyone else.

He cuddled away her nightmares and never complained when she woke up screaming.

He sang with her, got high with her, carried her to bed when she'd had too much to drink.

He didn't think she was crazy. He cried when she was broken.

He was her partner in crime.

 _You deserve someone who will bring you light._

But she'd _had that._ She'd had _Beth,_ she'd had a _physical ray of sunshine_.

Now here was Eugene and he was fucking with her head and how could she be feeling what she was feeling about him, how could she betray Beth like that?

 _Mason. Sweetheart. It's not her. Beth is dead._

So what was the point then? What was the point of falling in love with Beth only to be separated from her, to think they would be reunited, to have some tyrant bitch shoot her in the head? What was the point of any of this?

There was no point. There _was no point_. It was a fucking joke.

Dimly she was aware that the horde had come, that her voice was cracking with tears, that she was unable to remember why she should stay alive.

 _She felt no pull toward the warmth of the sun or the chirping of birds or the soft night air, except that he existed._

The outer wire rippled as the walkers heaved against it. There were so many that they spilled over and began writhing against the second cable. Mason watched them dully.

 _You should've died after Gina,_ she thought. _You should've let yourself die._

She remembered her promise to Daryl, just yesterday morning, and flinched. But how could he expect her to keep it when all she brought was chaos?

She kept singing, quieter now the walkers had come. The third wire, the last, began to tremble as a walker made its way over, then another and another. They were all around her now, more than a dozen.

She steeled herself. She would not be afraid. She would not be afraid and she would not think of Eugene, because she knew if she did her resolve would crumble like stale goddamn bread.

A walker made its way over the final barrier and loomed above her. Its teeth gnashed as it fell over her, clawing at her shirt.

 _This is better,_ she thought. _This is best._

She closed her eyes.

Blood sprayed her face, but it was not her own. She gasped, jerking back against the tree as the walker thumped to the ground, headless.

Michonne stood over her with eyes like thunderclouds. Mason stared back in shock, too breathless to speak. Her heart flickered like a candle flame, rapid, hot, frantic.

When she didn't move, Michonne whirled back into the fray, side by side with Rosita, her machete gleaming in the afternoon sun. They were badly outnumbered, and that was the only thing that brought Mason to her feet.

She slayed walkers in a daze, each one a twist in her stomach as it collapsed in its final death.

That could've been her.

That _should've_ been her.

When all the walkers had fallen, they stood within the ring of them, choked by the stench of rotting viscera. There was only a single beat of stillness in which Mason tried desperately to catch her breath, and then Rosita rounded on her.

"What the fuck was that? _Idioto jodido_!"

Abruptly, like the snap of a branch in a storm, Mason's blood flamed. She stepped forward until she was nose-to-nose with Rosita, trembling with rage, hazy with it.

"None of your fucking business," she snarled.

"It's not my business? Are you _kidding_?"

"Does it look like I'm kidding? Get the fuck out of here."

"We're not going anywhere," Michonne growled, flanking Rosita with a dangerous expression. "We're not leaving until you come home with us."

" _Leave me alone_."

Rosita shook her head, eyes wide. "I can't believe this. I mean, how fucking selfish are you? Coming out here as walker bait? Get over yourself."

She almost hit her. She wanted to. Her fists clenched so tight her knuckles stung.

"I am not your responsibility."

"Yeah, well, while you're out here thinking only about your damn self, there's people who need you. _Living_ , _breathing_ _people_."

" _Mason_!"

His voice came like a punch to the gut, hard enough that she wavered on unsteady feet.

She turned slowly. Reluctantly. Because she knew once she saw him

it was over.

She caught a brief glimpse of his relieved, terrified face before he swept her into his arms, holding her tight enough that she thought he might crush her.

He was warm and safe. He smelled like home.

And that was it. The end. She had no more fight left in her.

Glistening with tears, she sagged against his chest and hugged him back.

~m~

It was a quiet walk home. The air prickled with tension but Mason was too exhausted to care. She wanted unconsciousness. She wanted not to think for a few precious hours.

But as they were passing the threshold of the gate, shouts rent the air, jarring her heart. None of them hesitated. They ran toward the sound, drawing their weapons.

A group had gathered in a ragged circle outside Jessie and Pete's house, all of them looking on in horror at Rick and Pete in a bloodstained tangle on the ground.

" _Stop_!"

Jessie reached for her husband, trying desperately to tug him away. He swung a punch at her and caught her in the face, sending her sprawling.

With a vicious snarl, Rick slammed his head into Pete's nose and gained the upper hand. His fingers closed around Pete's throat. His eyes were dark, unseeing and wild. There was no doubt in Mason's mind that he meant to kill Pete.

" _Dad, get off of him_!"

Carl rushed in and grabbed his dad's arm.

Rick shoved him away.

Mason moved then, leaping forward. He could do whatever he wanted with Pete, but she would not allow him to lash out at her family.

Before she could reach him, however, Eugene snatched her back, wrapping his arms tight around her waist.

"No. No," he urged.

"Let me _go_. He can't-"

" _Rick_! Stop this right now."

Rick looked up at Deanna, his eyes finally clearing a bit. He seemed to realize for the first time that he was surrounded by onlookers. A few of them moved closed in.

He drew his gun and they jumped back. Pete slumped on the pavement.

"Or what?" he said. "You gonna kick me out?"

Deanna stared in shock. "Put that gun down, Rick."

Rick huffed. "You still don't get it. _None of you do_. _We_ know what needs to be done and we do it. _We're_ the ones who live. You people, you just sit and plan and hesitate. You pretend like you know when you don't. Well, you wanna live? You want this place to stay standing? Then your way of doing things is _done_. Things don't get better because you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here."

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now."

Deanna's voice was hard, cold, and Mason's spine went rigid as a razor.

Rick's expression sharpened dangerously. "Me? You mean _me_?" he said. "Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed, it's already gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. _I'm not gonna stand by and-_ "

Michonne came out of nowhere, knocking him across the head.

He thudded to the ground, unconscious, leaving the rest of them to stare at each other in silent horror.


	8. Isle of Flightless Birds

Hey, guys, I'm back with another chapter! First off, thank you all so much for your reviews and support, I am so grateful for it. Today's chapter title is "Isle of Flightless Birds" by twenty one pilots, a really great song for the Alexandrian era. After this we will be getting into season six territory (which is my favorite season, along with five) so I'm very excited, got some awesome stuff planned. Until then, I always love ya'll's feedback so let me know what you think.

8\. Isle of Flightless Birds

 **Mason**

Rick was awake when Mason and the new council- her, Glenn, Carol, and Abraham- stopped by. Michonne was already there, and had kept watch all night as far as Mason knew. Rick glanced at them with a little half-smile, like everything was so fucked it was funny. It was a feeling Mason was getting used to.

"Where'd you get the gun?" Michonne asked and Mason felt the weight of her own contraband, tucked into her belt.

"You took it, right, from the armory? That was stupid," Carol said. Mason almost laughed. Her and Eugene could've taught a class- Lying 101.

"Why did you do it?"

"Just in case," Rick replied, playing along seamlessly.

"Deanna's planning to have a meeting tonight," Glenn said.

"To kick Rick out?" Abraham asked.

"To try," Carol replied.

Glenn shook his head like he desperately wanted to believe otherwise. "We don't know that."

"Right," Mason said. "This is just your run-of-the-mill HOA meeting."

"Maggie's with Deanna right now, to find out exactly what it is."

Carol and Mason exchanged a glance.

"At the meeting," Carol said, "you say you were worried about someone being abused and no one was doing anything about it. You say you took a gun just to be sure that Jessie was safe from a man who wound up attacking you. You say you'll do whatever you want them to, just tell them a story. That's what I've been doing since I got here."

Michonne narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Because these people are children and children like stories."

Abraham smirked without much humor. "What happens after all the nice words and they still try to kick him out?"

No one had an answer to that.

"They're guarding the armory now," Glenn said.

"We still have knives," Mason said. "That's all we'd need if they tried to pull anything."

Rick nodded. "Tonight at the meeting, if it looks like it's going bad, I whistle. Carol grabs Deanna, I take Spencer, Mason grabs Reg. Glenn and Abraham cover us, watch the crowd."

"We can _talk_ to them," Michonne said.

"And we will. But if we can't get through, we take the three of them and say we'll slit their throats. They give us the armory and it's over."

Glenn looked sick. "Did you want this?"

"No, I didn't want this. I hit my limit, I…I screwed up. And here we are." Rick sighed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna sleep some more."

He lay back on the cot and closed his eyes, effectively dismissing them all.

Outside, Glenn turned on Carol and Mason. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Mason growled, "that we fought too damn hard for a place like this to let them kick us out. I'm thinking that these people having been gumming their silver spoons for too long and the only way they'll survive now is by keeping us. And yeah, maybe Rick went about it the wrong way, be _he's not wrong_. We survive because we fight. Period."

"She's right," Abraham said. "These people couldn't have their heads farther up their asses. Rick's discretion might've gone AWOL for a minute or two there, but we all know sure as stripper titties they're lucky if that's the worst they've ever seen."

Mason ignored him stiffly, muzzling the familiar heat of her resentment.

Glenn sighed. "It's not entirely their fault. They survived the only way they knew how. And they kept this place alive, _this place_. We can't leave. But the only way we can make this work is by working with them. I'll see you guys at the meeting."

~m~

She figured Abraham had probably been the one to move the heavy bag into the garage. It didn't matter one mite so long as he didn't disturb her. She wrapped her hands with shop rags, set her iPod in the docking station Eugene had pilfered for her and began. It felt strange using actual equipment again. For so long her exercise had come from hunting walkers.

Since yesterday, her thoughts had been hushed. She felt calm in the way of people who have emerged in one piece from a storm that tore everything else apart. Partly it was the relief of coming to terms with what she'd suspected for so long- that she had feelings for Eugene. What exactly she planned on doing about that she'd yet to figure out, but for now she was content to sit with it a while.

He hadn't talked to her about yesterday. Rick's little episode had shaken everyone, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Eugene sought her out.

A pleasant burn consumed her muscles. Sweat made trails down her skin. She was so focused on the movement of her body, the croon of the music, that she didn't notice she had company until he spoke.

"That thing steal your lunch money?"

Mason paused rigidly. Every edge of her was poised on the verge of fury, so it was a testament to her self-control that all she did was throw him a glare.

Abraham grinned. "Or did I?"

God, she wanted to break his nose.

It startled her when Eugene came up behind him, eyeing her with wary amusement. It was a shock seeing him with Abraham of course, but it was also strange seeing his face and knowing that so much had changed inside her because of it.

"You no longer have to worry that he will dismember me with his bare hands. We made up. It was a tender moment. There were tears."

Her jaw clenched. She knew exactly what he was doing and she refused to laugh.

"We may have made out a little."

 _Fuck you fuck you fuck you._

Abraham chuckled. "It was the manliest make-out session in the history of necking."

Oh, so now they were ganging up on her? Well she wouldn't break. She refused.

"This man's luscious locks have dominated my thoughts for too damn long. As of today I am leaving Rosita and shacking up with him instead."

"Nice to know you only love me for my hair, Red."

"Don't pretend you haven't caught yourself waxing erotic about my cardinal mane."

A snort broke through her defenses and both of them grinned, the bastards. Eugene's eyes twinkled slyly.

 _Don't you open that fucking mouth, I swear to god…_

"Damn these exquisite tresses," he said, perfectly deadpan.

Mason giggled. " _You asshole_!"

They laughed, too, looking ridiculously pleased with their teamwork. And she had to admit, it was good to see them getting along again, even at the expense of her pride.

"So, doll," Abraham said. "Can you forgive me? I'd like to be friends again."

She was quiet for a moment, lips still pinched in a grudging smirk. Finally she said, "I'll see what I can do."

"Good enough."

~m~

Mason kept absolutely still, hoping she appeared unruffled, but she was ninety-eight percent sure Eugene could feel her heart racing.

She had her shirt pulled up, exposing her scars despite her instincts, which screamed to keep them hidden. Eugene examined them steadily, checking for infection, cleaning away any blood. There was sadness in his eyes but not pity, and she appreciated that more than anything.

Still, she couldn't help wishing he would hurry up. His touch was gentle. Unbearable. She didn't know how to react to it or even if she should, and she certainly didn't know how to deal with the yearning that sparked in her belly as a result.

Finally, _finally,_ he spoke. "They appear to be healing as they should. This one down here, you said you got that at the warehouse?"

"Yeah." Her voice cracked and she cleared it impatiently. "Cut it on a broken shelf."

"Keep an eye on that one. It's deeper, and the good lord only knows what kind of bacteria you might've picked up out there. Otherwise I think you check out."

"Thanks, doc."

Eugene nodded and pulled her shirt down. It was such a simple thing. It shouldn't have felt intimate, but it did. Prickling heat swept over her.

"Um. So. How's Tara doing? I haven't seen her yet today."

"Stable. I am leaning toward optimism concerning her physical well-being. It's her mental health I'm most worried about."

Mason frowned. "You think her brain might've been damaged?"

"It is a possibility, yes. Numerous things could be wrong and we just won't know until she wakes up. But I will say…that… Well, no brain injury is a good thing, but I have seen worse."

There was something in his voice. Something unsaid. Something broken. Before she could think that maybe she shouldn't, she asked, "When? How?"

Eugene didn't answer at first. He stared pensively at his hands, his fingers twiddling nervously, and she was about to take it back when finally he took a deep breath.

"My dad was like me in a multitude of unfortunate ways, but he went about things differently. For instance, when I was bored I would lock myself in my closet with a cornucopia of junk food and read for hours. When _he_ was bored, he drank whiskey and broke things. He always took the blame, though. He never laid a hand on me and he always… He tried his best to be a buffer between me and my mother.

"She was… she didn't want…me. I think she liked the idea of children as a trend. All her friends were popping out puppies so why not kind of thing? But children are not hand-crafted ideals nor are they universal byproducts of happy unions. Somewhere around fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, or at least they did before the virus cleaned house. I wasn't what she wanted me to be, that was part of it.

"It was hard to say they were ever happy, but I remember seeing pictures of them from before I was born. They _looked_ happy, at least as far as I could tell. As you may have gathered, I am not as well-equipped in deciphering emotions as I am at deciphering equations."

Mason tried to smile, but her face had frozen over. She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"You're pretty good at deciphering mine."

"You're an open book, Mason. And I'm good with books."

Briefly he looked at her and she hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt.

"I was thirteen," he continued. "Home because I had skipped school. I lied to my parents and told them class had been cancelled, forged a note for the school excusing my absence. Mom was at work and Dad nursing a hangover, and it was going to be a good day."

The way he said it sent a chill over her skin. His eyes were the windows of a haunted house.

"People started screaming on the street below our apartment. It caught my attention because the neighborhood where we lived was usually quiet as a crypt, so…I looked out my bedroom window to see…to see what was happening."

The words came jaggedly, and each one cut into her lungs. She couldn't stand the look on his face, the distant dread, like he wasn't even there with her anymore.

"We had a balcony that looked out onto the street," he said. "My dad had jumped from that. His blood was everywhere. It looked impossible, like a cheap movie set. But he survived the fall.

"The doctors said it was a miracle when he stabilized, but it… When he actually came to, he wasn't the same. He was angry, lethargic. He didn't recognize me. Not once in eleven days before dying in a hospital bed.

"And I wonder sometimes. What the point was. Why did he survive that, a gold medal sidewalk dive, just for death to drag him from an ICU? Just to strip him of his dignity? Just to see him look at me like I was a stranger? It didn't have to happen that way. It shouldn't have happened at all."

He lifted his trembling hands to his face, like he couldn't stand the sight of the world, and Mason's heart broke at the sound of his shuddering, damaged breath. She wrapped her arms snugly around him, blinking away her own tears.

They were so similar. His pain and hers, cruel reunions with people they loved. They were lost in the same place.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean… I wasn't trying to diminish… You see, whenever I was upset it always made me feel a little steadier listening to someone else's troubles. I am not a sadist, I assure you, it just-"

"Took you to a different place," Mason finished. "It does that for me, too. It's always easier helping with someone else's pain."

"Yes. I wasn't undermining at all what happened yesterday. I'm just trying to figure out how I can help. And I wanted you to remember that you're not alone."

"Thank you."

 _I love you._

The thought came out of nowhere. Her lungs tightened.

"About yesterday," Eugene said. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want, but I do think you should talk to someone. There's a young woman here who studied psychology- Denise. She seems nice."

Mason nodded. "I'm sorry. Yesterday. Everything was…too much."

An understatement.

"I don't require an apology. I want to assure your health and happiness. And you're not my problem but you are my something, and I need my something to stay here with me because who else am I going to school in Mario Kart?"

She laughed through her tears and hugged him tighter.

How? How did he make everything better when the world was falling apart?

"Eugene? Maybe there was no point. All that happened to us," she murmured against his neck. "But we _found_ each other. I have to believe there's a point to that."

She kissed his cheek, tasted the salt of his tears.

He leaned away to look at her. He was so warm. So close.

"By 'us'," he murmured, "do you mean the group or something…something else?"

She stared into his eyes. The cresting swells of oceans. The blue of autumn twilight. He was so close his breath ghosted over her lips.

 _Sometimes it gives you moonlight when you thought there would only be darkness._

"I…"

Her belly clenched with terror.

She couldn't. She couldn't do it.

"I have to go," she said and scrambled to her feet. "I have to check on Rick. I'll…I'll see you at the meeting, okay?"

Eugene blinked. "Okay."

She was out the door in a second, weak with shame.

~m~

When Rick opened his eyes, Mason plastered on a careless grin and hoped it didn't appear as fake as it felt.

 _You're an open book, Mason. And I'm good with books._

"Mason. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to spring you from this quaint little bastille."

Rick made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "What time is it?"

"Little after four."

This time it was definitely a sigh. "Carol came by earlier. Gave me back my gun. She said she hasn't told anyone about the other ones and I'm assuming you haven't, either."

"No."

Well, except Eugene. He'd seen it, tucked into her belt, when he cleaned her wounds but he hadn't said anything. From the look in his eyes she knew he recognized the seriousness of their situation, and she trusted he wouldn't rat her out.

"We can't keep lying like this," Rick said. "Eventually something's gonna break. They need to know the truth."

Mason thought of D.C. and smiled wryly. "Yeah. But are they ready for it? They've been playing house in here for so long."

"We all were, before all this. Some of them may not survive but the ones who can need to know. For our sake as well as theirs. We can't risk ourselves coddling their delusion."

"Okay, but… Say they accept that we're right. They let us have our guns, let us call the shots with the walls and the walkers. Are you really going to let this work?"

"Well, we'll be fine after that. We won't have to worry about their rules dictating our safety."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

She didn't elaborate. Rick stared her down, clearly understanding.

"They're not one of us," he said. "No matter what they do, if they cooperate or not, they will always be them."

"Wasn't that what you thought about Michonne? Abraham? What about me? Didn't you only take me in so I could find food for the group?"

"That was different."

"How? Rick, it's _not_ different. I'm skeptical that they can survive, too, and when we came here all I could think was, 'how are these people going to use me?' But if they make it work…if they _try_ …we have to try, too."

Rick studied her for a moment. "What changed?"

"I've been doing some…soul-searching. Or I guess I was strong-armed into it. I don't have everything figured out, but I _do_ know that I'm…I'm different now. For better or worse. Merle told me once that this world demands a different breed of people, and that's true, but I think it also demands new versions of yourself. Parts of me are the same, and parts of me have died, and parts of me have grown out of the corpses. _I_ changed."

After a long silence, Rick nodded. "Thank you, Mason."

~m~

There was a fire crackling in the middle of the little courtyard, illuminating the grim faces of those gathered with a conversely cheerful light. The night was cool enough that Mason could see her breath. She sat next to Carol and Eugene and concentrated on keeping her nerves at bay.

From the looks of it, everyone was there except Glenn and Rick himself. Deanna stood by the firelight with Reg and looked around with narrowed eyes before nodding to herself.

"We're going to start."

"Can we wait?" Maggie said. "There's still people comin'."

But Deanna was adamant. "We're going to start," she repeated. "It's already dark and we've waited long enough."

Carol and Mason glanced at each other. They both had their knives and they both had their guns, hidden away beneath their clothes. She was prepared to use them if she needed to, but she hoped she didn't.

"We're going to talk about what happened. Not the fight, not what precipitated it- we're dealing with that. We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people, and we're going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he'd be here, but…"

"She said he's coming," Michonne interjected.

"I'm sure he'll be here," Carol added, automatically reverting to the syrupy, innocent tone she used on the Alexandrians. "I'm sure we can work this all out."

Deanna sighed. "I understand that some of you have voiced your support, not necessarily of his actions but of Rick himself. But I think the majority of this community would agree that who he is, who he may be, does not excuse his actions, and that what he did was inexcusable."

"With all due respect, Deanna," Michonne said. "This community? You have been safe inside your walls for a long time. Rick was out there. He's seen the kind of things that change you. That keep you up at night. He was forced to become a shadow of himself just to keep us all alive. And after being out there, and then _not_ being how you were out there… It can drive you crazy. Rick just wants his family to live. He wants all of you to live. Who he is, is who you're gonna be. If you're lucky."

Carol stood up, looking appropriately nervous. "Rick saved my life," she said. "There's terrifying people out there, and he rescued me from them. People like me? People like us? We need people like him. I know what happened last night was scary, and I'm sure he's sorry for that. But maybe we should listen to what he was saying."

She gave Deanna an anxious, hopeful little smile and then sat back down. When the others weren't looking, she threw Mason and Eugene a quick, conspiratorial eye roll.

Abraham stepped forward then, and the crowd parted from his brawny frame like fish from a shark. Without preamble, he said, "There is a vast ocean of shit that you people don't know shit about."

Mason couldn't help grinning a little.

"Rick knows every fine grain of said shit. And then some."

Beside her, Eugene cleared his throat and then, to her surprise, stood up. His hands shook but when he spoke his voice was steady.

"I will have to second that," he said. "Rick Grimes is a man of integrity and fortitude, who knows exactly what needs to be done and takes the brunt of those actions so that the rest of us can carry on. He is truly a good man in a world gone to shit, and I will assure you right now that that is hard to come by."

Mason grabbed his hand as he sat back down, enormously proud. Carol smiled approvingly.

"My father respected Rick Grimes," Maggie spoke up. "Rick is a father, too. He's a man with a good heart, who feels the things he does, the things he has to do. And all of us, no matter when we found each other, we're family now. Rick started that. And you won't stop it. You can't."

Deanna was beginning to look uncertain, but before Mason could hope that they were winning her over she began to speak.

"Before we hear from anyone else, I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency. Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday, and he said our new arrivals can't be trusted. That they were dangerous. That they would put themselves before this community. And not one day later, Rick seemed to demonstrate all the things Father Gabriel said. I had hoped Gabriel would be here tonight."

"I don't see him, Deanna," Jessie said. "So you're just saying what someone said. Did you tape him?"

"He's not here," Mason said, only barely keeping from spitting the words out.

Gabriel, that lying sack of shit…

"Neither is Rick," Deanna replied. "And if he isn't willing to take this seriously, then I-"

She broke off suddenly as a figure stumbled into the square. It was Rick, splattered with blood and hefting a walker over one shoulder. The others gasped as he tossed it on the ground.

"There wasn't a guard on the gate. It was open," he growled. "I didn't bring it in, it got inside on its _own_. They always will. The dead _and_ the living, because we're in here. The ones out there, beyond the wall? They'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to kill us.

"But we'll kill them. We'll survive, I'll show you how. You know, I was thinking how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives? But I'm not gonna do that. You're going to change."

Rick's eyes flickered briefly to hers and she smiled, her heart swelling with pride.

"I'm not sorry for what I said," he continued. "I'm sorry for not saying it sooner. You're not ready. But you have to be. _Right now_ , you _have_ to be. Luck runs out."

"You're not one of us!"

Everyone looked up. Pete stalked into the square, Michonne's sword gleaming in his hand. Mason tensed, resting her hand on her gun.

"Not now," Carol whispered.

Reg rushed to stand in front of Pete, resting his hands on his shoulders. "You don't wanna do this."

"Get the hell out of my way."

"Just stop, okay? Come on. Let's just-"

" _Get the hell away_!"

Pete shrugged violently out of Reg's grip and the sword flashed, slicing neatly through Reg's throat.

Everyone screamed. Deanna's wail rose above them all as she dove to catch him. Abraham knocked Pete on his ass, kicking the sword away and yanking his arms behind his back.

Mason stared in horror at the blood jetting from Reg's throat.

 _Mason grabs Reg… We take the three of them and say we'll slit their throats…_

She swallowed convulsively and leaned closer to Eugene.

" _No, no, my love_!" Deanna sobbed. Reg was nearly gone already, his eyes glassy and faraway. His hand clutched briefly in Deanna's shirt before falling limp.

" _It's him_!" Pete snarled. " _He doesn't belong here_! _It's him_!"

Deanna snapped her head toward the sound, tears and rage and despair. Her hands glistened with her husband's blood.

"Rick?"

He looked at her. In his hand he held the gun.

"Do it."

The Alexandrians screamed when he fired the gun, but Mason and her group were silent as ghosts.

"Rick?"

Daryl and Aaron stood in the entrance of the courtyard, but the man who'd spoken was unfamiliar to Mason.

Rick stared in utter disbelief.

"Morgan?"

 **Alpha**

"The archer and the recruiter made it back to the community with that man, the one with the staff. They arrived in time to see Rick kill another man."

Alpha's eyes gleamed. "First impressions," she crooned. "I almost hate to kill that one."

Embry nodded emphatically, obviously relieved that she'd decided not to kill the messenger.

"So. It's time? Alpha has given you the go-ahead?"

"Yes," she said, smiling wryly. "Alpha has. And he has indulged me in a request."

She paused, eyeing the gate in the distance. Her eyes flooded with anticipation, molten with bloodlust.

"There is a man, and a woman. Eugene and Mason."

Embry blinked in confusion. "Yes, we've monitored them."

Alpha nodded. "When we take Alexandria, I want Mason kept alive. If I don't get to her first, I want her brought to me."

"And Eugene?"

"I want his blood. I want her to watch him die."


	9. Thunder

Hey, so I'm back, a bit later than I was hoping. I meant to have this chapter up a few days ago but unfortunately I've been having computer issues xS Also, the chapter itself turned out a little longer than I was expecting. Hopefully it's not terrible. Today's chapter title is probably a song you've heard already- "Thunder" by Imagine Dragons. I fucking LOVE this song and no matter how many times they play it on the radio I swear I will never get sick of it. Anyway, as always, feel free to let me know what you think. Next chapter we get some action from the Wolves!

9\. Thunder

 **Alpha**

"We're not ready. We should watch them a while longer to be sure-"

" _We have watched them for long enough_!"

Alpha's snarl carried through the woods, sending a flock of birds into the air. Beta cowered, though he was taller than her. Her eyes were emerald shards, sharp as anything and glinting with violence.

"It's _time_ ," she said. "I've waited long enough. Those sheep do not deserve the things they have. And Mason... She does not deserve her happiness."

"Alpha, I agree. I do not wish to undermine you. But they have guns, and Rick's people will hold their own. We would not escape without serious casualties."

Alpha stared him down coldly. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Just a few more days, that's all I ask. We're just not ready yet-"

Quick as a spark, Alpha drew the knife from her belt and jabbed it through the flesh of Beta's side. He howled and stumbled away, spurting blood.

"Now," she said, "you're ready whether you think so or not."

 **Mason**

Mason woke at dawn from a turbulent sleep. Eugene snored from his place on the floor, twitching occasionally from nightmares of his own. She sighed and climbed quietly out of bed.

Last night, after everything, she and Abraham had carried Reg and Pete's bodies behind the neighborhood to a small pine grove. That was to be the cemetery, apparently, but there hadn't been graves to mark it as such until yesterday.

They hadn't buried Pete. Rick told them he would drive the body out of the community the next day and Deanna had agreed. They weren't going to bury killers within the walls.

There was still blood and soil under her fingernails. Her gun was still tucked into her belt. She felt dazed, like last night had happened years ago and seconds ago simultaneously.

Abraham was up, too, sitting at the kitchen table and staring at his hands. There was still a scar there from the whole D.C. thing. Mason sat across from him and raised an eyebrow when he slid a flask across to her.

"The sun isn't even up yet."

"Yeah, well, I ain't slept yet, either, so I don't think it counts as alcoholism."

"Right. Yeah. Staying up all night to drink _totally_ isn't something an alcoholic would do."

Buts she didn't have any room to talk, so she took a sip anyway.

"So why are _you_ up at this fine hour?" Abraham asked. "If I recall correctly you ain't a morning person unless you're in attack mode."

"If last night doesn't warrant attack mode, then…" Mason trailed off to rub at a crick in her neck. "I was having these fucked up dreams."

It was the Beth dream again, but this time it had ended differently. Instead of waking up when she stepped toward the puddle, something stepped out of it at _her_. A figure covered completely in blood, or perhaps there was nothing else to it. Maybe it was just blood molded in the shape of a person.

Well, a walker. Its skin had hung loosely from its bones, dripping like candle wax. But it had been quick, lithe, its eyes wild and reflective like a wolf's. And it had whispered…

"Yeah, I get those, too," Abraham said, jolting her back to the present. "I don't think there's a damn person alive these days who wouldn't trade their nightmares for something a little more sunny side up."

"Like Freddy Kreuger?"

"I'd give my left nut if I dreamed about him. Speaking of, did your man inform you that I am now tutoring him in the art of war?"

Mason stared. "...Okay. So. There's, like, fifty-seven issues I have with that sentence."

Abraham just laughed. "He's actually holding his own pretty well despite being a clumsy little punk. _My_ question is why you haven't broken your hiatus and continued training him yourself."

"If I broke my hiatus I don't think I'd been in any shape to fight."

"Wow. That doesn't even... No. I know what you're doing, you pint-sized demon. Stop evading the question."

Mason huffed impatiently. "Well, I don't know, maybe it's because we just got to this place and we haven't really had a chance to settle."

"Oh, that's _bullshit_. We've been settled so long we've had time to accumulate decorative ceramic ducks for our bookshelves."

"You…speaking from experience, big guy?"

"Rosita has strange taste in adornment."

"Look, Abraham, I'm just trying to get my feet back under me. We all are. I don't know why you're busting my balls."

"Because I have full use of my damn eyes, girl, and whenever you look at him a little flock of cartoon hearts pops up around that silly, moony head of yours."

A rush of heat overwhelmed her and she ducked her head. But how was she going to deny it? She was an open book, apparently.

"It's a medical condition," she mumbled. "I'm having it checked out."

"Yeah? I know a good fake doctor."

"You are not helping."

"Oh, contraire, missy. Someone needs to give you a swift kick in the ass. That man may be the most cowardly lion on savanna, but any idiot could see he would do anything in this Christ-forsaken world for you."

"You literally _just_ forgave him for lying about D.C. and now you want me to…to…"

"Marry him? Have a beautiful wedding on a beach? Grow old together sipping lemonade on a porch in your rocking chairs? Yes."

It took every ounce of willpower not to picture this, and from Abraham's smug expression he had clearly counted on as much.

"Lady. Darlin'. Sugar, fire and hellspawn. At this juncture I see absolutely no reason why you two should not confess your undying love for each other."

Mason didn't respond. She stared at the table, running her teeth over her tongue until she tasted blood.

"Mason."

His voice was suddenly softer. It startled her.

"I know it's been hard. I know you loved your girl more than anything. I can't tell you how to heal from that except that, in time, you'll be strong enough to carry that pain. But I know that Eugene makes things better for you. You two violas are so perfect for each other, it's fucking disgusting."

In spite of herself, she laughed. "Gee, thanks, Red."

"No problem."

He might've said more, but Eugene trailed down the stairs then, rubbing cowlicks from his hair. Mason smiled.

"Morning, friends," Eugene said.

Abraham smirked. "Mornin', viola."

~m~

When they went to visit Tara, she was finally awake. The relief Mason felt was tempered by sadness; knowing Eugene's story now, it was easy to see the ghosts swimming behind his joyful smile.

But she seemed alright, responsive and alert. The girl, Denise, was going to run what tests she could. She looked nervous as hell to be the new doctor, but she also seemed smart and capable. Mason liked her.

They were coming out of the infirmary when they saw Rick and Daryl with the man from last night, Morgan. Rick waved them over.

Morgan smiled pleasantly, but his eyes remained reserved. _Scoping everything out,_ Mason realized. She wondered how long he'd been on the road.

"We didn't get much of a chance to meet last night," he said quietly and held out his hand. "Morgan Jones."

Mason shook his hand.

"Mason Porter. Reynolds!"

Her heart took off at a thundering gallop. Rick and Daryl's eyebrows arched in unison. She didn't have the guts to look at Eugene but she could feel him staring at her.

"I-I-I'm...Mason. Reynolds."

Her face was a goddamn fireball but Morgan was polite enough not to look at her like she was insane. Eugene shook his hand next.

"Good to meet you, Morgan, I'm Eugene," was all he said, deftly skirting his last name to spare her more embarrassment.

God, she loved him.

Rick cleared his throat, clearly making an effort to stifle his amusement. "Morgan and I are going to take the body out to bury," he explained. "Can you two take gate duty while we're gone?"

"Yeah, of course," Mason replied. Her voice was too high, too airy. "We'll grab a few guns and be right on it."

She led Eugene to the armory, setting a brisk pace to avoid having to look at him. She was so overly cheerful that Olivia asked her if anything was wrong.

"Nope, not a thing," she answered manically.

Of course she could only dodge her embarrassment for so long. She waved Rick and Morgan through and then it was just her and Eugene.

"So. Um." She dragged the toe of one shoe through a patch of dirt, pretending to draw something. "About...um...you know, the name thing? I was just tripping over my tongue, you know? I was gonna introduce you and me but I got it all scrambled and yeah."

A total fucking lie, but she laughed like it was nothing.

Eugene watched her for a moment, and right then she knew that he knew she was lying. But when he spoke it was just to say, "My father used to call them twelve-car pile-ups. When you fuck up so bad you need an ambulance."

He told her a few more of his dad's inappropriate expressions to make her laugh, but after a few minutes he paused.

"You hear that?"

She did. Her eyes narrowed. "Car."

It was too soon for Rick and Morgan to have returned. They drew their guns and waited.

The car pulled up just outside the gate and a door opened.

"Hey! We're back, let us in!"

Mason nodded to Eugene and he slid the inner gate open.

"We are not currently authorized and so will not be doing so."

The kid on the other side, a younger guy with cornrows and glasses, frowned at them.

"Who the hell are you?"

"You first."

"I'm Heath. My crew and I live here but we've been out on a run for the past couple of weeks."

"I'm Eugene. This is Mason. Aaron brought us and our group here directly within that window so we haven't had the chance to meet and I can't exactly confirm your residency."

"Open the gate."

"If we do, how do I know you won't try to kill us?"

Heath huffed a laugh. "Look, I'm not gonna kill you. But the longer you make me wait the more you motivate me to beat your ass, so..."

Mason smiled a little. There was something about the kid that she liked. Eugene glanced at her, and only once she nodded did he open the outer gate. The three of them stood aside as a woman drove a worn car through.

"So how many are in your group?"

"Thirteen- I mean. Twelve."

Understanding darkened Heath's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Mason murmured. She turned to close up the gate.

"Anything big happen while we were gone?"

"Well...we had a meetin' last night."

"Oh, yeah? About what?"

"You might wanna talk to Deanna. Get it from the horse. Her mouth, you know?"

Heath blinked in that mystified way people got when they first experienced Eugene. Mason stifled a laugh.

"...Alright."

"By the way, it's good to see someone like me," Eugene said as Heath turned to leave. "I fully respect the hair game."

That time, Mason did laugh.

It was about an hour after this that Rick and Morgan returned, carting one extra person that Mason recognized with a jolt as Jessie's oldest son, Ron.

As soon as they got out of the car, Mason knew something was wrong. Morgan was grim and Rick's eyes had regained the cunning, haunted gleam from their time on the road. Ron looked pale and angry.

"We have a problem," Rick said. "We're gonna need to call a meeting."

~m~

The others had already gathered in the living room, both the group and the Alexandrians. Morgan was describing to them the scene that Rick had already briefed her and Eugene on- that walkers had filled up a quarry not far from the community. Hundreds of them. And that they would likely be escaping very soon by the looks of it.

Before she and Eugene could join the meeting, Rick pulled them aside.

"Whoever else goes," he told her, "I want you to stay back."

Instantly she bristled. "What? No, I'm gonna be out there with the rest of you!"

"Mason, I want you to be in charge of the community while I'm gone."

And just like that, her indignation deflated. "You...what?"

"Look, Deanna's not in the greatest shape right now. Maggie's gonna stay behind to keep an eye on her but I need to know that there's someone here who can manage the defense of this place."

Mason swallowed. "Maggie's just as qualified-"

"I've already talked to her. She agrees with me."

"I...I don't know...what to say."

"Well, I do, and it is that you have excellent judgment, Rick," Eugene said firmly. "There is no one else I would have chosen myself."

Rick nodded. "I wanted to talk to you, too. I'm gonna need you to help with construction plans. The route we plan on taking is fine, but we can't risk walkers breaking off from the herd at the curves."

Eugene frowned. "Plates. Big-ass ones, from the construction site? We can use them to fortify a whip-wall, shore them up against a couple of big trucks. It would help to disperse the force of impact and direct the walkers clean. Like a pool table, eight ball, corner pocket."

Rick raised an eyebrow at Mason and she grinned smugly.

"Well. That solves that."

He patted Eugene on the shoulder and dismissed him to join the meeting. Then he turned to Mason.

"I'm gonna be taking a lot of fresh faces with me. If we're gonna make this work, before I can even _decide_ if these people can make it work, I need to see how they do out there. Our group? We're gonna handle this. And Eugene's right. There's no one I'd trust more to leave in charge of this place."

A lump caught in her throat. "Thank you," she murmured.

Rick smiled and gestured her inside.

"After you. Miss Porter."

She punched him in the arm before delicately stepping inside.

Everyone quieted when they saw Rick, their eyes full of fear. He stood at the center of the room to address them all.

"I guess Morgan's filled you in on our situation?"

"And the plan," Morgan said.

"My team," Heath spoke up. "We saw it, back on one of our first scouting missions. There was a camp, at the bottom. The people there must've blocked the exits with those trucks, back when everything started to go bad. They didn't make it, they were all roamers, maybe a dozen of them."

"And no one's been back since?" Maggie asked.

"I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So all the while walkers have been drawn by the sound," Mason said. "And they're making more sound and drawing more in."

"And here we are," Rick said. "Now what I'm proposing. I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in, it could go off the edge any day now."

"From what you describe, likely with the next hard rain," Eugene said.

Rick nodded. "That exit sends them east. All of them, right at us. This isn't about _if_ it gives, it's _when_. It's gonna happen. That's why we have to do this soon."

"This is, uh...I don't even have another word for it, this is terrifying," Carol spoke up. Playing her role to perfection. "But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

A man with a thin face- Carter, if she remembered correctly- made a face like they were all speaking gibberish. "Maybe there is," he said. "Couldn't we just build up the weak spots?"

Mason stared flatly. "That's only part of the issue. They'd still be drawing more walkers in our direction."

"And even if fortification was a plausible option, we'd be talking constant maintenance," Eugene added. "No matter what kind of walls we come up with there is no way for us to manipulate mother nature. That quarry'll wash one way or another and we wouldn't be back to square one after that."

"We'd be at Defcon shitstorm," Abraham rumbled.

"We're gonna do what Rick says," Deanna said from the window where she stood. "We're going to follow the plan he's laid out."

No one objected after that, although Mason noticed several of the Alexandrians exchanging uneasy glances.

Rick acknowledged the support with a dip of his head. "Like Morgan said, we're gonna have Daryl leading them away."

"Me, too," Sasha spoke up. "I'll take a car, ride next to him. It can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keeps 'em from getting sloppy."

"I'll go with her," Abraham said. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

"Alright," Rick said. "We'll have two teams. One on each side of the road, keeping to the woods to manage this thing. So who's in?"

Mason very nearly volunteered before she remembered.

 _I want you to be in charge of the community while I'm gone._

Her stomach twisted nervously.

"Me," Michonne said.

Glenn nodded. "I'm in."

After a moment, Gabriel raised his hand. "I'd like to help as well."

Without so much as glancing in his direction, Rick growled, "No. Who else?"

"Wait, there's gotta be another play," Carter insisted. "We can't just control that many."

"Walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them. We've done this kind of thing before," Mason said, remembering, against her will, the night she was separated from Daryl and Beth.

"So we're just supposed to take your word for it? We're just supposed to fall in line after you people after-"

He was smart enough to cut himself off, but everyone knew what he was going to say anyway. Mason narrowed her eyes. Rick cocked his head to the side.

"After _what_?" he said.

"After you wave a gun around. Screaming, pointing it at people. _After you shoot a man in the face._ "

"Enough!" Deanna snapped.

Carter shut up after that, burning with resentment.

Heath volunteered, and Holly and Tobin and a few other Alexandrians whose names Mason couldn't remember. When Nicholas volunteered, however, Mason and Glenn shared a look of barely restrained fury.

"You sure you can handle it?" Rick asked.

"You need people," was all Nicholas said.

When they had enough enlisted in the mission, Rick assured them all that they would make it work. That they would keep their families safe. But Carter's eyes were dark when he demanded they go over the plan again, every part from the beginning.

~m~

Early the next morning, Mason went out to the construction site with Rick, Glenn, Eugene and Abraham to get a head start on loading the equipment. Of course she was of the opinion that it was way too fucking early for such manual labor, and glared into the trees while she downed the last of her coffee.

Eugene leaned next to her, sipping leisurely from his own styrofoam cup.

"I've always been of the belief that rising before the sun is a cleansing liturgy. Like being reborn as a phoenix..."

" _Fuck. You_."

She stalked away while he laughed, all self-congratulatory. Fucking morning people.

But the work roused her more effectively than the coffee and soon she felt less likely to murder someone. They loaded the metal plates first, as they were the heaviest and needed all five of them to lift. After that were the wood ballasts, the shovels and sand bags. In no time they all were covered in sweat.

When the sun crested the treetops, Abraham said, "Alright. Think it's about time to start hauling this shit to the sites. I'll take the first truck to-"

"Hey," Eugene cut in. "Walkers."

Everyone tensed as a herd of them emerged from the trees, easily more than a dozen.

Mason drew her fire poker. "How sweet, fresh meat."

"'Nightmare on Elm Street 4'," Eugene said, checking his magazine. His hands shook but his face was carefully composed. "Also, that meat is not fresh in any sense of the word."

She stuck close to him as the walkers descended, keeping him trained in her peripheral vision. He held is own surprisingly well, but she refused to leave him to his own devices. Old habits.

"On your left!" he said suddenly, fumbling for the second magazine tucked into his belt.

She whirled around. Three walkers bore down on her from the thick of the woods, so close she barely had time to swing her iron. It smacked jarringly into the closest walker's rib cage and stuck there, setting her off balance.

"Shit!" She let go and stumbled back.

"Get down!"

Instantly she obeyed, startled by Eugene's voice. He stood over her, gun raised in steady hands, his face an uncharacteristic mask of conviction. The walkers fell one by one in a round of shots, one with its jaw blown clean off.

Eugene turned to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... Nice shootin' there, Tex."

Quickly he pulled her to her feet. The others were still battling a cluster of walkers by the trucks, but before they could jump in to help a fourth, monstrously large walker lurched from behind a tree. It roared a snarl and barreled into Eugene and Mason, knocking them both to the ground. Eugene's gun tumbled into the foliage.

It took all of their combined strength to keep it at bay. The thing was a beast, more alive than the others. It champed at them relentlessly, its weight grinding them into the dirt, and with each snap their hands sunk deeper into its spongy chest.

A silver glint caught her eye. A serrated triangle of metal had broken off from one of the bigger plates and lay not far away.

"Can you hold him?" Mason hissed.

"I'll do it. I got it," Eugene replied through gritted teeth.

Keeping one hand on the walker's chest, she inched her other arm free and strained toward the metal shard. Sweat and blood trickled down her face. Her fingers scrabbled in the earth, snagging painfully on rocks, tearing her nails in uneven places. Still she fought, her fingers sliding in gore, only managing to keep her grip on the walker by wrapping them around a rib bone that creaked ominously.

Finally, with one last desperate push, the fragment was in her hand. Snarling, she reeled a complete one-eighty, tearing muscle in her side with a sharp sting, and drove the spike through the walker's temple.

It collapsed on them both in a spill of blood and liquified brains. They heaved it away and staggered to their feet. Glenn, Rick and Abraham were dispatching the last of the dead ones, so Mason and Eugene sagged against each other.

"Holy shit," Mason said breathily. "We almost just died."

"I saw a play-by-play of my entire life," Eugene agreed. "I watched entirely too much-"

"Porn?"

"-Kitchen Nightmares..."

"Oh. I watched too much porn."

Mason retrieved her fire iron and Eugene his gun before staggering over to the others.

"Everybody alright?" Rick asked.

"Your hand," Eugene said, and Mason thought he was talking to Rick until she realized he was looking at her. She glanced down at her hands and was surprised to realize that the left was a bloody mess.

"Oh, shit," she murmured. "Must've been the metal scrap."

"There's a first aid kit in the car," Glenn said. "I'll grab it."

Mason sat recovering from the adrenaline rush while Eugene patched up her hand. Once he'd cleaned away the blood she was surprised to see that it was just one cut, deep but not sinister, running the length of her palm.

"Are you okay otherwise?" he asked her when he was finished.

"Yeah. I just prefer my near-death experiences _not_ so early in the day."

"Agreed. I try to schedule mine for just after dinner." He smiled a little, then reached out to tuck a wisp of bloody hair behind her ear.

She stilled. His thumb lingered on her cheek. Her heart was an exposed nerve, a live wire thrumming with reckless energy. His eyes were unblinking blue, softer and more vulnerable for her than anyone else.

Glenn cleared his throat, startling them apart. "Your hand alright?"

"Uh, yep," Mason said. "Bleed's like a bitch, but I still have full use of my fingers, so, yeah. Everything's great."

Behind him, she saw Abraham grinning from ear to ear like a giddy schoolgirl. She threw him a glare and got to her feet.

"Abraham's gonna drive the supplies down to the first site," Rick said. "I thought it might be a good idea if we do a bit of walker hunting. We don't want something like today happening while we're playing ball. You two up for it?"

Mason nodded. "Sure thing. Give death another shot. Best two out of three."

After Abraham left they set out on foot, staying close together on the off chance there was another herd close by.

A couple minutes passed before Mason felt a set of fingers slip gently through hers.

She blinked up at Eugene and he shrugged, overly casual. "You should probably keep pressure on it. You know. Stop the bleeding and all that."

Then he smiled just a bit and she blushed.

"Oh. Right. Good thinking."

She caught Rick and Glenn exchanging amused glances and her cheeks flamed a deeper shade of red. She and Eugene held hands all the time, but this time there was something different about it and apparently she wasn't the only one to notice.

Flustered, she shook her head and focused all of her willpower into concentrating on their task.

Luckily they encountered no other walkers, because she failed utterly.

 **Eugene**

He was pleased to see that Tara seemed up to joining them on the second day of construction. The bruising had faded considerably and her eyes were bright with cognizance. Rick and Maggie kept her from the heavier lifting, but no one seemed worried anymore that she wouldn't make a full recovery.

Eugene, Mason, Abraham and the Alexandrian construction crew were in charge of assembling the metal portion of the wall, which was admittedly a pretty shitty job. But it was a workout, he supposed. Though she grumbled like the rest of them, it was obvious that Mason enjoyed this kind of thing, which cheered him considerably.

Plus, he couldn't help admiring how her arms looked in her flowy tank top, the unruly loops of hair that framed her face, the lithe contour of her calves...

"Hey, Eugene?"

Carl's voice jolted him from his admiration. He hoped the embarrassment didn't show on his face, though he supposed his feelings for Mason probably weren't much of a secret at this point.

"What's up, little dude?"

"Well... Okay, so, you're like a huge nerd."

"That is a correct assessment."

"So you're good at math and all that? Like that wasn't just for show, for the whole D.C. thing?"

Eugene tried not to wince. "I am well-acquainted with mathematics, the sciences and all matter of left brain application."

"Well, I was wondering..." Carl trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck like he was out of his element. "I was wondering if maybe you could tutor me? I mean, after all this is over. There's gonna be school again. Classes. I just...don't want to be left behind, you know?"

He felt a wave of sympathy for the kid. The ones here had probably continued their education mostly uninterrupted, but of course Carl hadn't been afforded that luxury.

"Of course, sir," Eugene said. "I would be happy to."

Carl smiled. "Thanks. You know, Mason said she could help me with English and lit and all that, but she said she was hopeless with math. So I thought it would work out perfectly if you both tutored me. You know, a forbidden love between the writer and the scientist?"

Yep. Definitely not a secret.

Eugene glared flatly. "Nice to know you only sought me out to set us up as star-crossed lovers."

"Well, that's only part of it. You're also the smartest one here. You nerd."

"Uh huh. How about you make yourself useful and assist me in hauling some of these plates."

Carl gladly obliged, and while they worked Eugene quizzed him with math problems. He started out rusty but caught on quick. Kid was sharp.

"I think you may have a future in the fine art of geekery."

Carl beamed. "Is that what you had a doctorate in?"

"I don't know, did you have a doctorate in this?" Eugene pointed to Carl's chest, and when Carl looked down he flicked him on the nose. "Take a break, smartass."

Carol had come along with the group under the guise of caretaker. She was dressed in one of her ridiculous Mother Dearest outfits, handing out refreshments with that perfect housewife smile, but Eugene wasn't fooled. When he took his drink, he recognized the spark of animosity beneath her cheerful facade, though thankfully this time it was not directed at him.

He stood next to her and murmured a quiet aside. "Can I assume from the detonating volcanoes in your eyes that someone shit in your casserole?"

"That obvious, huh?" she murmured back.

"I would venture a guess that it's only obvious to me. You are an accomplished chameleon. So am I."

Carol smirked slightly. "Maybe Morgan is, too. Just now, he asked me if I was a cop. Because I'm always ready." She said this resentfully, like it was an insult, which almost made him laugh.

"Want me to take him out?"

"Yes, would you?"

"Sure thing, ma'am. You know, in the war they called me Eagle Eye. Mostly because when you look at me from the side I give the illusion of being quite majestic, but from straight on I just look absolutely terrified."

A shrill cry interrupted Carol's laugh.

"Walkers!"

Everyone dropped what they were doing, but Eugene noticed a painful divide between his group and the Alexandrians. Mason and the others were quick to leap into action, but the Alexandrians cowered behind them, frozen in place. Eugene empathized, but even he had his hand on his knife.

"Wait!" Rick called, stopping his group in their tracks. "Let them handle it. They got this."

Carter stared, wide-eyed with fear. "Help us!"

"Use your shovels. The guns will draw more," Rick instructed. "You can handle this."

" _Help us_!"

The rest of Rick's group stood poised, nearly trembling with the instinct to step in. Eugene sidled up next to Mason, who threw him a troubled glance. The Alexandrians were not just green behind the ears, they were absolutely useless. None of them followed Rick's advice. They simply pushed the dead ones back with terrified screams.

Finally, Rick snarled. "Alright, go!"

And he and the group swept in as one mighty force, slaying the walkers with practiced ease.

In less than a minute, the situation was contained. Eugene glanced back at the Alexandrians and was unsurprised to find them huddling in a frightened herd. Only Carter stared with outright hostility, directing his glare entirely at Rick, and Eugene felt the first faint stirring of unease in his stomach.

~m~

On the third day, they took their first real break since starting the project. It was going to be a short one- just a half a day and then they were back at it. But Eugene knew that, though she would never admit to it out loud, Mason was craving whatever relaxation she could get. He had promised her they would utilize it to the fullest.

"I managed to scrounge up a few exquisitely tacky horror movies. We can draw the shades and get fat on pilfered food and watch bad actors get axed."

Her smile in response had been dazzling. "That sounds like absolute fucking paradise."

It just happened to work out perfectly that he was in the pantry, squirreling away what food he thought no one would miss, when he heard the voices in the other room.

"Time is running out."

He recognized Carter's voice, the hushed edge of it jabbing him with alarm. Furrowing his brow, he crept closer, straining to hear.

"He's talking about a dry run tomorrow. That's it."

"Rick stopped Pete." That was Olivia. "He stopped him."

"This is not taking out a wife-beater."

"He was a _murderer_ , Carter," came Tobin's troubled rumble.

"What Rick wants to do is _suicide_. I'm sorry, Spencer, but Deanna is asleep at the wheel. So it's on us. We've got to stop him."

Anger flickered in Eugene's chest, tempered by dread.

 _Rick saved your ass, you sorry sack of shit._

"What the priest said about him, these people...he was right. How many more of us have to die before we do something? Because pretty soon it's gonna be too late."

Slowly, keeping his eye on the shadows in the other room, Eugene began to reach for his gun.

"Carter, you need to be really careful here," Olivia warned. "You're talking about us going to Deanna and-"

"No, I'm not talking about _talking_ anymore. No more meetings, no more bullshit. Plain and simple, we kill him, before he kills us."

His fingers brushed the edge of the gun just as one of the jars he was holding slipped from his arms, shattering on the floor.

 _Fuck_.

He dropped the rest of the food, but before he could draw his weapon Carter was there, aiming his own gun. Fear slid down his spine but he refused to give in to it. He found himself wondering what Mason would do in his shoes. Fixing his face into a mask of innocence, he said, "Hello."

Tobin reached toward Carter but never quite touched him, like he didn't dare to. "Carter. You don't have to do this."

"He heard what we were saying."

Eugene swallowed. His heart thundered.

"Yes, I certainly did."

He moved then, ducking to the side while grabbing for the gun. Abraham had only shown him the maneuver once so he was rather clumsy at it, but for a second he was nearly able to wrestle the gun from Carter's hand.

It went off abruptly. The bullet ricocheted off the metal shelving and Eugene felt the wasp-sting of heat as it cut a hair's length past his ear. In his shock, his grip on the gun loosened. Carter shoved him back against the wall, hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

" _Stay down_."

The door opened then, revealing Daryl, Rick and Mason. There was a heartbeat of silence in which the three of them took in the scene before them. Whatever Mason had been smiling about seconds earlier disappeared in a rush of terrifying darkness.

Another heartbeat and she was on him, so quick Carter didn't have time to react. She stood with her knife at his neck, pressing hard enough to draw blood.

Her free hand had grabbed the gun, twisting his wrist so that it pointed at her chest.

Her eyes were wild, ferocious storm systems. Her whole body was an iron outline of bloodlust.

"Shoot me," she said. Her voice was quiet and no one was fooled by it. Her fury filled the room. "I fucking dare you."

Carter stared at her, mute with fear. For one long, tense moment, nobody moved.

Finally, Daryl edged toward her. "Mason. C'mon."

Gently he touched her arm. Her eyes stayed locked on Carter's a moment longer before releasing him.

When she turned to Eugene, however, her eyes softened. She helped him to his feet, hovering anxiously.

Rick stalked up to Carter. "Care to tell me what the hell is going on here?"

"We- we're..." Carter rubbed fretfully at the line of blood on his throat. "We're taking this place back from you people."

"That's what you were talking about in here, huh?" Rick nodded thoughtfully. "See, I would've set up some lookouts. That would've been the smart thing. You know in case _I_ happened to show up."

Faster than a blink, Rick lunged for the gun, performing the move Eugene had attempted much more seamlessly. In seconds he had Carter's gun, and Carter himself crouched on the floor.

"You really think you're gonna take this community from us?" he growled. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

Carter trembled. "It...it was just...just me. It was just my idea. Just kill me."

Rick cocked his head to the side, like he was considering it. After a moment, Eugene shook his head.

"Rick. It's okay."

Of course it wasn't, but when Rick glanced at him it was clear he knew what Eugene meant. After a moment of consideration, he nodded and belted the gun.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Carter's eyes widened in disbelief. Mason mirrored his expression, quivering with suppressed ire, but she kept silent.

"You can try to work with us," Rick said. "You can try to survive. Would you do that?"

"Y-yes," Carter whispered.

"Then _try_."

Rick nodded to Eugene, Daryl and Mason. They left together, but Eugene didn't miss the venomous glance Mason cast over her shoulder just before the door closed.

 **Mason**

They were nearly done with construction. The whip-walls were standing firm. She knew the real test would come later but she was confident in Eugene's design.

She paused for a drink of water, but froze mid-sip when she spotted Carter on the other side of the wall, scrutinizing the wooden struts. Before she could think better of it, she was shoving off toward him.

He startled at her appearance but she held her hands up in a show of peace.

"How's it looking back here?" she asked.

Carter swallowed uncertainly. "It...appears sturdy enough. I just wonder how it will hold up against a whole herd of those things."

"Yeah, I understand. It's kind of a daunting task, but I think everything will go smooth as goose shit."

She punched him then, hard enough to send him on his ass. She crouched on his chest before he could recover and started wailing on him, bloodying his nose, cutting her own knuckles on his teeth.

"Mason!"

At the sound of Abraham's shout, she hopped up immediately, holding her hands in the air like she was under arrest. Rick and Daryl appeared with a few Alexandrians, who gathered over Carter to make sure he was alright.

She waited until she was sure he was looking at her. Then she grinned her cockiest grin and, very pointedly, tapped the gun at her waist.

 _I fucking dare you._

"Alright, killer," Abraham said. "Let's go."

He led her away, muttering something about time out to cool off. The others looked at her curiously, the Alexandrians regarding her with new trepidation.

When Eugene spotted her, he blinked in alarm.

She held up her bloody knuckles, grinned and said, "Bleed's like a bitch."


	10. Moar Ghosts 'n' Stuff

Hey, guys, I'm back with another chapter and goodness is it a long one. I'm actually surprised I have it done by now, it's been a very hectic week. As always, a million thanks for your reviews and support, I truly, truly appreciate it. Today's chapter title is "Moar Ghosts 'n' Stuff" by deadmau5, and it's a terrific mix of fun and sinister, which is exactly what I needed for this chapter. Anyway, I'm excited and nervous to hear what you think. Hope you enjoy!

10\. Moar Ghosts 'n' Stuff

 **Alpha**

When the ground crumbled under the truck, sending it into the quarry, she burned with grim satisfaction. Their time had come earlier than expected. The walkers flooded through the open exit, the man named Rick shouted orders to his frightened people, and Alpha gave the signal to Beta.

He nodded and rushed off to rally the Wolves, not bothering to hide his resentment. The stab wound on his side needed some serious attention, and the only way he was getting meds for it was by invading Alexandria.

Alpha watched until Rick and his people disappeared, then snatched up the first walker she saw.

She'd been practicing for so long, she didn't need to sacrifice efficiency for quickness, or vice versa. When she was done, there were no holes except where the eyes had been, and a long slit in the back for her to slip into.

The Alexandrians hadn't inspired the idea to skin walkers, though she was excited to experiment with it today. No, originally, that idea had been for Negan. To use against him. And after today, she would. She would take Alexandria, take their food and their homes and their weapons. She would bleed Eugene like a pig in front of Mason, force her to watch as the light left his eyes. She would have her revenge on the woman she'd loved in a life before all this.

And then she would have her revenge on Negan.

 **Mason**

Beth was behind her but it didn't matter. Mason was terrified. No amount of reassurance could temper the fear in her heart; it practically convulsed with it. Rain cascaded like quicksilver. Thunder rumbled with the promise of violence.

The blood waited ahead, thrumming unearthly, neon red in time with her pulse. She took a heavy step toward it, though every inch of her pulled in the other direction. She didn't want to see. She couldn't.

"You have to see," Beth said.

She trusted Beth. Beth would never lie to her.

But there was something in that puddle.

And it meant to kill her.

She took another step and the puddle rippled wildly, pulling at the edges in strange ways. Like someone standing up under a sheet.

She stopped as the sheet took form, tapering into limbs, crimping into joints. A head materialized on shoulders of deepest red. A mouth opened, whispering in a voice like glass scraping glass.

" _Here is your longest night. The darkest winter Solstice._ "

The face was coalescing. Sharp cheekbones. Dainty nose. Eyes as violent green as antifreeze, glinting reflectively.

" _I'm going to dissect you._ "

The breath caught in her throat, choking on her horror, because that face, that face was...

" _I will take everything you love._ "

 _Gina_

She lurched awake, a scream razoring up her throat. She was soaked and shuddering; she thought for one wild moment that she was wet from the rain, that somehow, in some freaky sci-fi turn of events, she had really been back in that forest. It took a second to realize that the rain was sweat, that she sat glistening in a halo of it, and that she was on the floor of her new home, a year and a half away from that night.

" _Mason_."

Eugene grabbed her shoulders, steadying her as she shook. She reached out to grip his arms like life preservers and struggled to catch her breath.

"It was a nightmare," he murmured, still half-asleep. "You're okay. It was a nightmare."

"It was Gina," she replied, desperate and tremulous. "It was her, she was whispering to me. Beth was trying to show me..."

She broke off, swallowing brokenly. Her mind was still a whirl of darkness and rain. She couldn't get a handle on it.

"I need air."

"Okay. Come on."

He lifted her to her feet and led her down the hall to Noah's room. It was the only unoccupied room with access to the roof, and no one had claimed it since he'd died. His belongings, meager though they were, still sat on the dresser next to the bed. A splinter of grief lodged in her throat.

Eugene let her sit in silence while she regathered her wits. A faint clip of silver, the last wisp of the moon's cycle, hung low in the western horizon. There was not enough of it to lend its light, and the night felt claustrophobic. Mason took comfort in Eugene's steady, thoughtful expression, how he watched the moon with his arms hugging his knees to his chest. It made him look like a kid.

"I've been having these dreams for a while now," she finally said. He looked at her but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"Just one dream, I guess. Recurring. It starts off back at the prison. With Beth. We're..."

She trailed off, suddenly unwilling to tell Eugene about kissing Beth, about the overwhelming desire to do more. She skipped over it.

"She tells me she needs to show me something, so I follow her up to roof. Except when we climb out of the air duct, we're in this forest. This forest I've been to before. The one where I lost...lost Gina."

Eugene's eyes darkened with understanding. She didn't have to explain any further than that. She'd told him the story.

"I'm scared. I don't want to keep going but Beth assures me that it's okay. That I need to see..." She paused for a shaky sigh. "For a while it would always end the same. We'd come to the blood, the puddle of it. She would tell me to look and every time I stepped forward I'd wake up. But tonight, and the night before, the blood became this- _figure_. The first night it was just a walker, but tonight..."

"It was Gina," Eugene finished. "That's what you said."

"Yeah," she rasped. "And it wasn't that it was...nightmarish, or...or gruesome or...I don't know. I've never had a dream like that. That felt so _real_."

Eugene stiffened as if he'd been slapped. His hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles paled.

He murmured something that sounded like, "The heart doesn't reason."

"What?"

"I had a dream like that," he said. "I was inclined to believe it wasn't real, but my heart...my heart doesn't reason."

When he looked at her then, she was struck by his eyes. She couldn't read them, there was such a flurry of emotion there, but she was terrified by the desperation, the _need_ , they inspired within her.

"It was Beth," he said. "She was waiting for me, on the roof of the prison."

Mason took a soft breath. "Beth?"

"Yes. She...she said she wanted to meet me, to thank me for looking after you. She gave me tea."

A tiny laugh escaped her, edging on hysteria. "Of course she did. Of course."

She'd told him a lot of things, but she'd never mentioned the tea thing before.

She closed her eyes.

 _A coincidence._

Yes, of course. They were just dreams, dreams with coincidences. Just their own weirdo psyches fucking with them. Of course.

"She also told me about that song. The one we danced to."

Her eyes flashed open. "The song," she whispered.

From far away, she felt Eugene touch her face. "Mason?"

 _coincidence coincidence coincidence_

"I'm here," she murmured.

His eyes flickered, still unreadable. "I apologize, sweetheart. It was my first instinct to tell you, but I didn't...I didn't want to upset you any more than you already were."

Right. Because she hadn't exactly been on stable ground at the time. She shook her head.

"You don't have anything to apologize for. They're just dreams." She said this more than firmly. She said it like she was gearing up for a fight. "Weird shit happens in dreams, that's all. I don't know why I'm freaking out. _I'm_ sorry."

"That's entirely unnecessary. But are you sure-"

"Eugene. I'm okay. Promise."

With a little smile, she touched her pinky finger to his.

And hoped, just once, that he couldn't see her lying.

~m~

"The flowers really are lovely, Mason. Thank you." Bill smiled, positioning the vase just so in the middle of the kitchen table.

"Eugene and I found them this morning patrolling the wall. I thought maybe once the group gets back I could transplant a few. Janet could work on that garden she's been talking about."

"I think that would be perfect for her."

Bill sighed. For one moment, Mason saw the exhaustion he hid so well.

"She's...not been doing well lately. I think a little time spent in a garden would do her some good. She used to have quite a green thumb back before all this."

Mason nodded and quickly swallowed her pity, knowing Bill wouldn't appreciate it. "Well, I'll get right on that soon as all this is taken care of."

"Are you staying for tea?"

"No, I..."

 _She was waiting for me... She gave me tea._

"Rick put me in charge, I need to keep an eye on things."

"Of course, dear. And, really. Thank you."

It was a beautiful day, hard to believe that a legion of walkers lurked just up the road. Eugene and Tara were gathering supplies for Carl's first science lesson. Carol was babysitting Little Asskicker. Maggie had taken Deanna out to a place beyond the wall, where they planned to make room for crops.

It was strange, walking through the community by herself. Everything was quiet. Empty. The nape of her neck prickled as she wove through the houses. She had the distinct impression that someone was watching her, but she was alone.

 _Don't be a spaz,_ she told herself. _You're just hyped up from your nightmare._

She knew it was true, but she couldn't shake the feeling regardless.

 **Eugene**

"Before we delve into the minutiae of periodic tables and molecular composition, I thought we'd start off this lesson with why all that stuff is cool."

Carl snickered. "Cool?"

"Yes. What is it you kids say nowadays? It's _off the chain_."

"Oh my god, Eugene..."

"Now. As well as being incredibly bitchin'-"

"You're just trying to embarrass me, aren't you?"

"I am indeed, sir. It fuels me, as it does any self-respecting teacher. Now. As well as being incredibly bitchin', this presentation actually has a practical application. There is a severe lack in this new world of pyrotechnics."

Carl raised an eyebrow, suddenly excited. "Pyrotechnics?"

"Oh, right, _now_ you're interested."

"Well...yeah! Are we gonna blow something up?"

Eugene ruffled his hair. "Not today, I'm afraid. But we will be setting things on fire."

"That's cool, too."

"I have a feeling you are going to make an exceptionally terrifying arsonist."

 **Mason**

She heard the shattering first, two quick claps of it from the southern wall.

The screaming came next.

She was off like a shot, gun drawn and ready. She was just in time to see the body of Richards, who was on watch duty, tumble over the wall in a cloud of flames. A second later, a ragged figure climbed over the side. Mason raised her gun and shot him, right through the eye.

A few yards away, another figure crawled over the wall, and another in the other direction. Ice clamped its teeth around her heart. They were coming in from all over, skittering over the panels like ants.

" _Fuck_!" she hissed, took aim and shot another invader through the chest. But there were too many. Twenty, twenty-five, thirty... Quickly she backed up, breathless with terror.

She was in charge of this place. It was up to her to defend it.

Screams rent the air, popping up in all directions. People were appearing on their porches, alerted by the noise. She couldn't leave them alone, but she couldn't be everywhere at once.

"Follow me!" she shouted. "Come on!"

They hesitated, likely put off by the bandages on her hands, the bruises she'd left on Carter's face.

 _Fuck... You're an idiot, Mason._

Before she could call to them again, a figure leaped out at her from behind a tree and slammed her into the ground. Mason raised her gun but the woman kicked it from her hand.

The woman was thin and grimy but the strength in her diminutive form was alarming. Her teeth were chipped and yellow. Her forehead was inscribed with a jagged W. Briefly Mason flashed on the night she and Eugene had gotten high at the library, when they'd seen that walker with the same W cut into its head.

 _Who the fuck... Did these people follow us from Georgia?_

Her attacker wrapped a hand around Mason's throat, snaggy nails digging furrows into her skin. Gritting her teeth, Mason grabbed at the woman's fingers and bent them the wrong way. The woman howled as one of them snapped. Mason twisted to the side, kicking her heel back into the woman's side. In a second she was on her feet, drawing her fire iron from its perch on her back.

The woman hissed up at her like a feral cat. "Are you gonna kill me, Mason?"

Mason jolted. But she didn't ask how the woman knew her name. It was a trap, to lull her into lowering her guard. She swung the fire iron, and it connected with the woman's skull with a sick, clanging thump.

She retrieved her gun and turned back to the others, who watched her with wide eyes.

"You all need to come with me," she said.

They didn't hesitate then.

 **Eugene**

"Alright, now mix that into the ice melt. Carefully. Don't get the mixture on your hands."

"What is this exactly?" Carl asked, frowning as he stirred the contents of the cup.

"I have every faith in you that you can guess its chemical structure."

"Well, I know the salt, that's obviously sodium. And you were telling me...you told me the stuff in the cold compress was...shit."

"No, not that."

"No, shut up, it was...something nitrate?"

"Yes."

"So...is it sodium nitrate?"

"That is correct, my young arsonist friend. All we need now is some good old H2O and then-"

He cut off abruptly at the sound of a scream, followed by two gunshots. Fear cut a jagged line through his gut. He drew his gun.

"Carl, I'll get you to Judith."

Carl nodded, his own gun at the ready. "Okay. You can stay there with her."

"No. Keep your sister safe. I need to find Mason."

Carl eyed him for a moment, like he wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. But whatever he saw in Eugene's face must have satisfied him, because he nodded with a grim smile.

"You got it, teach."

When they opened the door, Eugene's heart shriveled. He didn't know he'd been expecting walkers until he saw that it was people and his stomach dropped into his feet. The community had descended into chaos. Smoke billowed from several small fires. A slew of strangers ran rampant through the streets, drenched in blood.

For one second, fear nearly overwhelmed him.

And then he heard Mason's voice above the tumult a second before she appeared, rallying a group of Alexandrians around her as they hurried for the infirmary.

Eugene straightened his spine.

He was fucking terrified.

It didn't matter.

"C'mon, Carl," he murmured and they stepped into the fray.

 **Mason**

The infirmary was a flurry of activity. Aaron and Rosita were there, rushing around under Denise's command. Their hands were covered in blood. An Alexandrian lay on the operating table, clearly the source of it.

Mason led the others inside, into the living room where they were out of the way.

"What do we do?" one of them wailed.

"You all need to stay here," she said. "You're safer together. Help Denise if she needs it. Keep your weapons ready just in case."

"What about you?"

"I have to-"

The blare of a car horn cut her off, loud and close by.

"What is that?"

"I don't know," she growled. "Stay here."

She swept back into the infirmary, where Rosita was sticking the Alexandrian with an IV. Denise leaned over the woman's torso, so slick with blood Mason couldn't tell where the wound was.

"How many people are out there?" Aaron asked.

"A lot. At least thirty," Mason said.

" _Shit_. We need to be out there," Rosita said.

Before Mason could reply, the door swung open. She whirled around, iron raised, but froze when she realized it was just Eugene. He was splattered with blood but it didn't appear to be his. She leapt into his arms, weak with relief.

He held her close for a moment, breathing her name into her hair. Then he let go.

"Carl is guarding Judith," he said. "Enid is with them."

"Good. You have your gun?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Rosita, Aaron and I are gonna head back out there. You stay here. The Alexandrians are in-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, sister," Eugene said. "I'm comin' with you."

"Eugene, no. It's safer for you if you-"

"Excuse me, but this is non-negotiable. I have received training from both you and Abraham. This is warfare and you need every soldier you can get."

" _No_ , Eugene," Mason growled. "This is different from walkers and you're not ready. I'm sorry. Stay here and protect the others."

Without waiting for a response, she flew through the door with Rosita and Aaron.

"We need to get to that horn and shut it off," Rosita said. "It's gonna bring every walker down on our heads."

"Not everyone was accounted for in the infirmary," Mason said. "We need to check the houses, see if anyone needs help."

"We don't have the time or the people to do that."

"We can't just leave-"

Mason stopped in her tracks. Her throat closed up. Smoke rose in a dark, sinister plume from Bill and Janet's house.

She started running before she could stop herself, ignoring the protests from Rosita and Aaron. An invader crossed her path, grinning vilely. She shot him without breaking stride.

The screen door was hanging open. The mesh was torn, fluttering solemnly like a broken wing. She crept inside, smothering the urge to call for Bill and Janet.

She didn't see anyone at first, but the house was trashed. The hallway to the kitchen was speckled with broken glass. The tea kettle was screaming. The table was flipped on its side, the flowers she'd picked scattered and crushed.

Then she saw Bill and a shard of agony pierced her.

She fell to her knees where he lay, bleeding from a stab wound in his throat. His wide, glistening eyes reeled to meet hers.

"No," she sobbed. " _No_."

His mouth moved, but whatever he was trying to say was drowned in a surge of blood. His face was alarmingly pale. Mason clamped her hands tighter over the wound, like she could somehow force the blood back into his body through sheer force of will.

 _He's dyin'._

The voice was not her own but she couldn't focus on that, she had to help him somehow, she had to get him to the infirmary.

 _He'll bleed out before you get him halfway there. You couldn't carry him anyway, and definitely not with those people out there._

She closed her eyes. It wasn't her voice. It was

Beth

Hershel

Noah

Bob

Tyreese

Merle

T-Dog

Lori

Bill's hands clutched her shoulders, surprisingly strong. She opened her eyes.

He opened his mouth again, splashing her with blood. He didn't make a sound, but he reached with one hand to point to the back door, which was hanging ajar. Lazy wisps of soot trailed inside.

He convulsed a moment later, eyes pinching closed as one last gush of red erupted from his mouth. His eyes never opened again.

Slowly she got to her feet, not bothering to wipe away the blood. Reaffirming her grip on her fire iron, she slipped through the back door and into the backyard.

She stood there for a long time, staring at the body and the smoke coiling from it, swallowing over and over again but unable to feel her throat.

 _I think a little time spent in a garden would do her some good._

It was Bill's voice that time. Her newest ghost.

She took a mechanic step toward Janet, noting distantly that the horn had stopped. She stopped when she realized that what she'd thought before was a whole body- burnt, but intact- was actually several pieces. Bile burned at the back of her throat. The rage followed, razing her insides to ash.

 _Mason._

It was Beth. It was Bill. It was both of them.

 _Behind you._

The weight fell on her a moment later, but she rolled with it, flipping onto her back with her attacker beneath her. He let out a loud grunt as her elbow jabbed sharply into his chest. She kept rolling before he could recover, scrambling to her feet and ramming the poker through his throat. Blood spurted onto her leg. She barely noticed.

Three others stood before her, all men, all large and well-muscled. One of them was about her size, and the most haunting in appearance. He wore a black hoodie, which hung from him like a reaper's cloak. His face was painted completely with blood. All of them held axes, all of them dripping gore.

She knew she should've been afraid. But all she could think of was Bill, how he'd taken a feral housekeeper under his wing, made her tea, given her advice to cope with her fucked up brain, and never once looked at her like she was crazy. And Janet, her unshakable sweetness, how happy she'd been when Mason had brought the flowers, how scared she must have been before her heart stopped.

Her blood surged with vengeance.

They all moved forward at once, but Mason was quick. She ducked and dodged, whirling her fire iron like a sword. Metal screeched against metal. An axe came down and her iron rose to meet it; the impact reverberated up her arm. She held it there for a moment before dancing to the side, allowing her iron to slide in one cunning maneuver through her attacker's chest.

She slid free, pitching to the side in time to avoid an axe to the head. It cut through her victim's arm instead and he lurched to the ground with an agonized howl.

"Bitch," her second attacker hissed, lunging with a careless swipe of his axe. She parried deftly, fleet with fire, but it was not enough to keep her safe from the third man.

His axe sliced down the length of her arm. The pain took her by surprise, forcing her to drop the fire poker.

Clutching her wound, she backed up, eyes flickering from one man to the other. Bloodface was grinning- no. He was bearing his teeth like a rabid animal. The W on his head was a burn, she released. A brand.

She reached for her gun, rather awkwardly as she kept one hand on the gash. She wasn't sure why. It was too big to hope to stem without stitches.

Clinking sounded behind her. She turned to see a new invader close in behind her, face hidden by a grimy du-rag except for their eyes and the W painted on their forehead. Wrapped around their hands was a length of metal chain, on the other end of which was Morgan.

Mason narrowed her eyes, looking from them to the other two, her body angled like a cornered animal. There was nowhere to run, and even if she fired her gun, even if she managed to take down the axe men, the newcomer would surely finish her off.

 _Worth it,_ she thought to herself, and it was enough to convince her to raise the gun.

But when the gunfire came, it was not from her.

The axe men crumpled in unison, sporting matching head wounds. Mason turned, blinking in shock, as the newcomer lowered their gun and pulled the du-rag down around their neck.

" _Carol_?" she breathed.

"We need to bind your arm," Carol replied, releasing Morgan. Both of them hovered over her, Morgan ripping a length of cloth from his shirt to wrap her wound with. Mason just stared, shaking her head every once in a while.

When they were nearly done, Carol sighed. "What's that look for?"

Mason shook her head once more. "You are such a badass."

All Carol said in reply was, "That hoodie would fit you."

She was right, Mason realized. Grimness washed away whatever distaste she might've felt at the thought of wearing the murderer's clothes. They all had jobs. This was hers.

"Your arm's gonna need stitches," Morgan said as she stripped Bloodface of his hoodie. "You should go to the infirmary."

"When these fuckers are dead," she replied. "Then I'll go."

His eyes darkened. "You don't have to kill 'em."

For a second she thought he was making a joke in poor taste, but one look at the loathing on Carol's face and she knew he wasn't.

"Are you...are you _seeing_ this?" Mason motioned to Janet's body, not quite able to look at her. "Do you see what they did to her? That was an old lady who couldn't defend herself, who couldn't even make it up and down the stairs without her husband's help. And you're saying we don't have to kill them?"

Vengeance sparked in his eyes; she recognized it as surely as her own. But then he said, "No."

Mason shook her head, unable to find the words to express her disgust. She pulled on the hoodie and turned to Carol.

"I need to check the other houses, see if there's anyone left who needs help. You need to try for the armory. We can't allow these people to get to our guns."

Carol nodded. "I'll check it out. Stay safe, Mason."

"You, too."

 **Eugene**

He ducked under the dark shelter of a pine tree, keeping his back to the house behind him. A few yards away, a brawny monster of a man was busy hacking a dead body into pieces. Their brutality was appalling. It froze Eugene in his tracks, siphoning his courage.

Still he lifted his gun and took aim.

The first shot caught the man's hand, blowing a few fingers off in the process. He screeched and dropped his axe, whipping his head around for the source of the gunfire, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.

Eugene fired again, and this time the bullet traveled clean through the man's eye. He collapsed like a felled tree, splashing in the puddle of gore he'd created.

Taking a deep breath, Eugene ventured from his cover, moving quickly. There was screaming coming from all around him. He couldn't tell where to go next and he hadn't seen any sign of Mason since she'd run from the infirmary.

 _She's okay. She has to be. She's okay._

He kept this mantra up as he crossed from one yard to the next. Footprints trailed away from a thick puddle of blood. Silencing his fear, he followed them down a narrow alley between houses.

A shadow darted across his path, wielding a baseball bat. Eugene dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding having his head bashed in. He turned on his heel as the figure whirled back for him. It was so covered in blood it had been stripped of any identifying features. For one wild moment he thought of Mason's dream, the red wraith. Then he pulled the trigger.

Blood sprayed his face, momentarily blinding him. He staggered back, swiping at his face, and that was when he heard the voice.

 _Duck, Eugene._

He obeyed, of course, because he recognized that voice. He remembered it from a dream.

Something swung in an arc above him, so quick he would've missed it if he'd blinked. Breathless with fear, he turned around.

It was a walker, or at least it looked like one. But the way it moved was all wrong. It moved like a living person, and in its hand it held a fire poker. Panic choked him before he realized that it wasn't Mason's.

The walker-creature snarled at him, or grinned, he really couldn't tell. There was something strange about its eyes, too. It took him a second to put it together.

The skin around them was ragged in strange places. And the eyes itself were green. Vivid green, not the milky wasteland of the dead ones.

And it wasn't just around those eyes, those incredibly _human_ eyes. Its fingers hung strangely, like they didn't quite fit over the bones, and one side of its rotten chest had pulled just a bit to the side, like a rumpled shirt.

 _It's a mask. The whole thing. It's a no joke motherfucking mask._

In the same moment that he realized this, the thing moved, raising the fire poker like a spear. Abraham's lesson came back like instinct. Eugene raised his arm, diverting the fire poker from his torso. The point dragged down the skin of his arm, tearing it open. He cried out in pain but kept enough of his wits about him to slam his weight into the iron, knocking it from the creature's grasp.

With a furious screech, it lunged. Instead of flinching away, he grabbed it as it descended, allowing him enough of an edge to roll to the side and fling it against the wall of one of the houses.

He lurched to his feet, spattering blood, and raised his gun. But when he pulled the trigger there was only a hollow click, and he had no extra ammo.

" _Fuck_."

The thing was already recovering, snatching up its fire iron with a low growl.

"So you _are_ a fighter."

The voice was sharp and feminine and ran through him like a knife. When the thing looked up, it smiled a hideous smile.

"I promise you, that just makes this more fun."

Trembling, he drew his knife. The creature laughed.

"Cute."

He threw the knife, just like Mason taught him. It missed the thing's neck by inches, sinking instead into its shoulder. He took off while it was distracted, sprinting back the way he'd come. He wasn't far from the armory. If he could just make it there...

He skidded to a halt. The invaders were already there, a cluster of them hooting and howling like coyotes at a kill.

From behind him, he heard the distinct slap-patter of bare feet on pavement.

 _Run._

He obeyed the voice again, that sweet dream whisper, like the eye of a storm. He ran in the opposite direction, toward his own house. He didn't have ammo, but everything was still set up from his chemistry lesson with Carl.

The creature stuck right on his heels the whole way. There was no room to slow down. He burst through the front door hard enough that he racked his own nose against it. He careened into the kitchen, snatching the sodium nitrate and the bottle of water off the island. The creature swiped her fire iron across the counter top. It missed him by an inch.

He raced for the back door, and only once he was outside did he turn around, tossing the sodium nitrate into the creature's macabre face.

She lurched back with a gasp. He didn't give her the chance to recover. He opened the water bottle and doused her.

The flames erupted in a startling burst, smothering her face, eating a quick path down her shoulders and chest.

The creature shrieked, swinging blindly with its fire poker. This time it did hit him, catching him on the temple.

The world disappeared briefly, and when it returned he was slumped on the ground. He blinked through the pain in his head, clearing the blurriness from his eyes. Some distance away, the creature was still spinning, clawing at its burning skin.

As he watched, it shed its rotten hide, shimmying free in a haze of flames...

In the next blink, it was gone. He couldn't tell if he'd passed out again, but he could still hear gunshots and the occasional scream. He hadn't been out for long.

Stifling a groan, he climbed to his feet. Unsteady though he was, he had enough strength to wield the fire poker the creature had dropped. It wasn't a gun, but he would have to make it work.

He stumbled back into the chaos.

 **Mason**

She looked just like them, her face washed in blood, hidden in the shadow of her hoodie. She'd taken Bloodface's axe as well, to make it more believable. It was actually a fantastic weapon, but she knew she couldn't stomach keeping it after all this was over.

Moving through the community was easier disguised. She ghosted from invader to invader, taking them down without ever needing to battle them, which was good because her arm was starting to feel a lot more like hot coals than muscle. She'd taken down at least fifteen of them, and the others were obviously sharing her success because the invaders were thinning. She was daring to hope that they might actually win this.

When she saw Eugene, everything in her ground to an icy halt. Her lungs shriveled to husks. Her heart paused, and then took off at rocket speed.

There he stood in the middle of the street, covered in blood and facing off with a man who could've been a bodybuilder in the previous world. The man brandished a machete, though Mason had no doubt he could crush Eugene with his fists if he really wanted to. Eugene himself had a fire poker, which he was using to block Bodybuilder's blows with surprising success.

But his movements dragged, and it was clear he didn't have long until Bodybuilder overwhelmed him.

"Embry!"

It took a second to realize that Bodybuilder was hailing her.

 _Fuck,_ she thought. If she'd stayed hidden she could've dispatched him without issue. She'd just been so distracted by the sight of Eugene, out here on the killing field...

Eugene backed away as she approached, eyes wide with the certainty of his death. She resisted the urge to reassure him, to tell him that she wasn't going to let anything happen to him, and instead turned her attention to Bodybuilder.

"This is the one, right?" he said. "The one Alpha's bitch wanted."

Mason nodded silently, glancing briefly at Eugene.

Their eyes met. His glinted with recognition. Hers glittered with retribution.

"Good. Help me get the chains on him."

Bodybuilder advanced on Eugene, unwrapping a length of chain from around his hulking shoulders. Eugene backed away, trembling and babbling something about sparing his life.

But his eyes remained clear. Cunning. And Mason appreciated all over again his expertise in lying.

"Shut up and kneel," Bodybuilder snarled.

Playing his part to perfection, Eugene sank to his knees, allowing Mason a chance to edge behind Bodybuilder's massive frame.

He grinned savagely. "What the fuck would anyone want with _you_? Pathetic sheep."

Then he swiped the machete across Eugene's cheek.

A red haze blinded her.

Dropping the axe, she drove her fire poker into Bodybuilder's back and out through his chest.

He gasped and whirled on her. His fist caught her on the jaw, hard enough that she pitched to the ground.

Eugene was up in a second, grabbing the fire poker and yanking it out. Blood spurted from the wound, a double-sided faucet. Bodybuilder roared in agony, thrashing like an enraged bull. He might've done more damage, but Eugene cracked the iron across his face and sent him to the pavement.

For a moment, both of them stayed where they were, staring at the growing puddle of blood while they struggled to catch their breath.

Then they looked at each other, and Eugene wilted. When he spoke, he sounded on the verge of tears.

"Mason."

"Eugene," she rasped. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"

Gunshots tapped an ominous beat from the direction of the armory. Not handguns. Machine guns. Mason's stomach clenched. Eugene took a deep breath.

"They're not all dead," he said. "We need to finish this."

A confusion of emotions swelled in her chest. She was so incredibly proud of him, and so incredibly mad at him, and so incredibly _scared_ for him, that she had no idea what to say.

Silently, Eugene helped her to her feet. She gasped when her fingers slid in the blood on his arm.

"You need to go to the infirmary."

He shook his head stubbornly. "Last I saw they'd made it to the armory. We have to finish this."

She knew he was right, and she knew she needed all the help she could get. But she couldn't strangle the fear she felt as they rushed toward the sound of the gunfire.

They met several invaders on the way to the armory. She and Eugene fought them side-by-side, and though they were both exhausted, Mason couldn't help wondering at how well they fought together. Abraham would have been absolutely delighted.

When they made it to the armory, however, they stopped dead. Five bodies lay strewn outside, coloring the sidewalk red. All of them sported W's on their foreheads and a myriad of gunshot wounds from an AK-47.

Carol appeared suddenly in the doorway with said AK. Mason sagged with relief but Eugene raised his fire poker, and she remembered then that he didn't know Carol was in disguise.

"It's okay," she told him. "It's Carol. She's camouflaged."

Carol pulled the rag from her face, her eyes glistening. "You're alright. You're both alright."

Dizzy with relief, the three of them wrapped their arms around each other and stood in a tight huddle. They were surrounded by carnage but in that moment they were okay.

~m~

In the end, Denise hadn't been able to save the girl from before. Her face was pinched with unhappiness, but when Mason and Eugene were brought in she moved with the same efficiency as before.

Unsurprisingly, they both required stitches on their arms. Rosita patched up Mason's while Denise worked on Eugene's. After a while, Mason was struck by a revelation.

"We're gonna match," she said. "We're gonna have the same scar, just on different arms."

Eugene blinked. "Like puzzle pieces."

The thought brought a smile to her face, even through the fog of numbness threatening to overwhelm her.

Eugene needed stitches for the cut on his cheek, and Denise forced them both to sit and drink a bit of Gatorade to recover from the blood loss, but once she gave them the green light they both headed out to help sweep the neighborhood.

They came across no living invaders. All the bodies they found they stabbed in the head.

When they arrived at Bill's house, Mason stopped just outside to steel herself. Eugene slipped his hand through hers and she leaned into him, grateful for his presence.

She closed her eyes when she drove the knife into Bill's skull. She didn't realize she was crying until Eugene wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"They both were such good people," she said. "They deserved so much better than this."

"I'll help you bury them," Eugene murmured.

Shouting from outside jolted them both to their feet. Without hesitating, they rushed out into the street.

The first thing Mason noticed was that Michonne and Heath were back. They were running toward the gate with Maggie and Deanna, their expressions taut with alarm.

But where were the others?

Mason's knees shook. She didn't know how much more she could handle.

Then she saw him, racing up the drive to the community.

"Oh, shit," Eugene croaked.

He and Mason lurched to an abrupt halt as Rick raced inside and Michonne slammed the gate after him.

But not before Mason caught one last glimpse of the army of walkers surging toward their home.

 **Alpha**

She stumbled to a halt about a mile out from the community. Her burns throbbed. The pain made her want to pass out, but she knew it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The only reason she was alive now was because of that walker skin.

Mason's sheep lover had actually had some fight in him after all. She'd underestimated him. She'd underestimated all of them.

It should've been bad news. They'd lost. Nearly all the Wolves were dead. And she _was_ pissed. But beneath that something else was growing.

Despite being outnumbered, Mason had been able to rally her people and slay their enemies. There was a potential in them that Alpha was only just beginning to appreciate.

The Wolves were gone. She'd been counting on them to help her dethrone Negan, to dismantle the entire crooked empire that had used her and spit her out like she was nothing. Yes, her people were gone.

But Mason and her people lived, against the odds.

Maybe she had a use for them after all.


	11. Drive You Mad

Hello, lovelies! Well, I'm finally back with a new chapter! I apologize for it taking _much_ longer than I was hoping, and also because, fair warning, it's pretty fluffy. I just figured that our characters deserved just a tiny break after all the bloodshed from the last chapter (plus, in all honestly, it's kind of been a shitty week and I really needed a good dose of the fluff, you know?) Also, I am going to have a chapter devoted to explaining Gina's background (like with Negan and everything) but it won't be for another two or so chapters, just in case anyone's wondering. Anyway! Today's chapter title is "Drive You Mad" by Amy Shark, and if you haven't heard her music you _need to,_ she is amazing. As always, thank you all for your support and please let me know what you think!

11\. Drive You Mad

The sound just made it more terrifying. Not being able to see the walkers on the other side of the wall should have been a blessing. Instead it felt more like an executioner's blindfold.

They'd moved everything they could against the part of the invaders had hit with their truck to reinforce it. The whole community had ventured outside to see, and the fear was a physical presence among them.

"You can hear it," Rick addressed them all. "Some of you saw it. They got back here, but only half of them. Still enough to surround us twenty deep."

 _Only half,_ Mason thought dizzily. She could only imagine the horror of the full lot if this was only half.

"Look, I know you're scared," he continued. It was an understatement. They'd just been ravaged by a band of bloodthirsty murderers- these people, most of whom barely knew how to shoot a gun. Now they were surrounded by death, twenty deep.

"You haven't seen anything like this, you haven't been through anything like this. But we're safe for now. The panel the truck hit seems intact. Either way, the wall is going to hold. Can you?"

Mason breathed deeply through her nose, wincing at the the stench hovering over the community. _Could_ they hold it together? Doubt prickled in her stomach.

"The others, they're gonna be back," Rick said. "Daryl, Abraham, Sasha. They have vehicles. They're gonna lead the walkers away, just like the rest. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk through that gate right after them."

Mason exchanged a dark glance with Eugene. They'd never trusted Nicholas to go. If anything happened to Glenn because of him, she would kill him herself.

"Until they do, we keep noise to a minimum. Pull our blinds at night, or even better, keep the lights out. We try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard."

"This place _is_ a graveyard," one of the Alexandrians- Francine- said.

No one disagreed. They all looked at each other, horribly demoralized.

 _We need to pull these people back together or we're never going to make it._

Mason stepped forward to stand next to Rick. "This place is not a graveyard," she said. "We're _alive_ here. We're _fighting_. I know things are scary right now but we'll make it out of this together. That's what we do."

The others listened to her silently, but it was not the same silence that Rick received. She resisted the urge to fidget as she realized that they were looking at her with new respect. With trust.

And then one of them muttered, "We should've put _her_ in charge of the plan."

Instantly she bristled, seeking out the owner of the voice, a portly man in a black shirt. She stalked toward him, ignoring Eugene's murmured protest. She was under control this time.

"Rick risked his life to save you," she growled. "He went through with a plan that none of the rest of you would've had the balls to. He drew _half of them away_. Do you realize that we wouldn't be standing here right now if it weren't for him? We're going to make it out of this. But you need to realize that sometimes you run out of options, and sometimes you end up doing things you never thought you'd ever do in a million years because that's what you _have_ to do. You're afraid? So am I. Suck it up."

The man didn't argue. Instead he nodded meekly. Smart of him.

"She's right," Aaron spoke up. "The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading our way, _all_ of them. The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. We owe our lives to him."

Rick nodded to both of them gratefully, but she could see it in his eyes. The guilt. She felt it, too.

"There'll be more to talk about," he said. "But later. For now, let's make sure we're safe on the inside. I want groups of three or four scouting, along the walls, between the houses. Making absolutely sure that nothing, living or dead, has found its way in here. Take weapons but do not fire any guns unless you have to."

The crowd dispersed into uncertain portions. Mason and Eugene were about to head out as well when Rick called them back.

"Carol told me what you did for this place while we were gone. What you both did," he said. "Thank you."

Eugene blushed, and it was cute enough that Mason almost forgot that she didn't deserve the praise. Almost.

"I assure you, Rick. It wasn't anything the rest of you wouldn't be willing to do."

"Us," Rick corrected. "The rest of _us_."

At that, Eugene became exceptionally flustered. "Oh. R-right. Yes. Us."

Mason threw Rick a grateful smile. He'd never come out and said it, but she knew Eugene had always doubted the group would ever accept him again after D.C.

She touched his arm. "I'll meet you by the pines."

Eugene nodded, cheeks still rosy with embarrassment, and headed in the direction of the graveyard.

"You don't have to do that," Rick said when he'd gone. "You were just attacked. You should rest up."

"Oh, right, and you were just out shopping for a purse to match your shirt."

He smiled a little, but it didn't reach his eyes. Mason sighed.

"Stop blaming yourself."

"Thing's could have gone differently. They should have."

"Okay, yeah, so? Was World War II also your fault?"

The words came out sharper than she intended, but Rick understood. He knew intimately the weight of ghosts.

"You earned these peoples' trust here," he said.

Mason swallowed. Bill and Janet had trusted her from the start and now she had to bury them.

"You protected them. Our home."

"Those people should have never made it over the wall in the first place," she murmured.

"Was World War II also your fault?"

Rick's voice was gentle, teasing, but firm. She couldn't look at him.

"World War II was just a tad before my time, actually. But you can blame the apocalypse on me if you want."

He chuckled and rested his hand briefly on her head. It was such a fatherly gesture that it instantly made her feel a little better. Safer.

"You need to rest," he said. "But I think you're good for at least another hour or so. Help Eugene bury a few and then head back to the house. He's probably wondering what could be keeping Miss Porter."

"Stop calling me that."

~m~

The next day she woke from what could only loosely be considered sleep, a frustrated mess with an arm that burned like a condensed sun. She lay in bed for a few minutes, knowing sleep was futile but hoping anyway. Today was the first day in a small eternity that she had the opportunity to sleep in, and her fucking arm was just not going to cooperate.

Eventually she got up, as quietly as possible so as not to wake Eugene, who apparently was not having the same issue. Bastard.

The sun was cresting the trees, shedding buttery light over the community. It really was beautiful. Now that she'd been here a while, she was surprised to realize how much it would hurt to lose this place.

Denise was awake, and looked as though she had been all night. There were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and her hair was a frazzled mess. Immediately Mason felt guilty for disturbing her and began to back away, but Denise spotted her.

"Your arm bothering you?" she asked quietly.

"Uh, just a little. It's no biggie though. I can wait-"

"No, no. That's what I'm here for, right?"

She smiled then, like she was making a joke that she didn't find remotely funny. Her eyes gleamed with desperation.

Mason didn't know what she could say to help, though, so she just shrugged. "You have any painkillers? That's all I need."

While Denise retrieved some ibuprofen, Mason glanced around the infirmary. It was mostly empty except for the man lying on the operating table- Scott, she thought his name was. He'd been part of the group that had gone to lead the walkers away, but he'd returned with an infected leg wound. He was asleep, covered in sweat. The heart monitor beeped an agitated rhythm.

"I don't know what to do for him anymore."

Denise's voice was hushed with desolation. She'd come to stand next to Mason, her eyes resting bleakly on Scott's drawn face.

"I've read every book I have and I just..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I know that must make you feel a whole lot better. Having me as your doctor."

"Actually I think you're pretty badass."

Denise raised an exhausted eyebrow. It was clear she didn't believe a word.

"My mom was a nurse," Mason said. "She wasn't home a lot, but when she was she always explained _why_ she spent so much time away. And she didn't shy away from the gory details. All the rigorous, thankless shit she went through just to help people. To _save_ people. It's not for the weak. So yeah. You're a badass."

For a moment, Mason was rewarded with a genuine smile. It brightened Denise's face, but disappeared quickly.

"Your mom does sound like a badass," she said. "But I'm not. I mean, I'm learning all this as I go. How scary is that?"

Mason nodded. "I know it is. But I have faith in you. Not because I think things will always turn up roses, or because I think things are going to come easily. I have faith in you because you're scared and _you're still here_. You're a warrior just like the rest of us."

Denise let out a little laugh. "I don't know about that, but...thank you. Oh, and here." She handed Mason the ibuprofen.

"I gave you a little extra in case your boyfriend needed some."

Mason startled, blushing so instantaneously she felt dizzy.

"Oh, he's not...he's not my boyfriend..."

Denise blinked in surprise. "Oh. Really? I just thought... I mean, uhm. I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"N-no, it's okay. Thanks for the drugs."

She booked it out of there quickly. Despite her embarrassment, however, she vowed to visit again. Denise was a sweet soul and needed all the support she could get.

On her way back to the house she spotted Tara, smiling to herself as she headed for the infirmary. It only took Mason a second to put two and two together. She grinned impishly.

"Back to the infirmary, huh?" she said.

Tara gave her a look that was much too innocent. "My head hurts."

"Really."

"Yep. As far as you know."

Mason laughed. "Just so _you_ know, I totally ship it. What would we call you, by the way? You know, that weird tradition of splicing your names together like some freaky Cronenberg baptism? Tarise? Or would it be Denara?"

Tara pursed her lips, fighting a smile. "You think you're just so hilarious, don't you?"

"I do."

"So what should we call _you_?"

"What-"

"Magene maybe?"

Mason glared flatly. "That's not funny."

"I'm sorry, it's just that I'm _so hilarious_..."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Excuse me for thinking you two would make an adorable couple."

Tara grinned, her cheeks suddenly rosy. "I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves. But. You know. If anything _were_ to happen I wouldn't be opposed to it..."

Suddenly, Mason felt a little envious. Tara said it so easily, nothing holding her back, just the normal jitters that came with crushing on someone. How long had it been since any of her own emotions felt _normal_?

"Well," she said, shaking the thought away, "she's a total cutie and I think you would both be lucky to have each other so I wish you all the luck."

"Thanks."

They bumped fists and parted ways, but not before Tara called cheekily over her shoulder, "And good luck with yours, Miss Porter."

"Oh my _fucking god_ , does, just, _everybody_ know about that? Seriously?"

"I think we've probably known longer than you, gorgeous."

"I will kick every one of ya'll's gossiping asses."

 **Eugene**

Mason wasn't going to say anything. He could see her putting on a show, not just for everyone else but for herself. Trying to convince the universe that she was alright.

She sucked at it.

"One of these days," he said, "I'm going to teach you how to lie competently."

She paused in the middle of tying her shoe to gape at him, feigning outrage.

"I can lie just fine!"

"To yourself, maybe."

Something flashed in her eyes, but she looked away before he could read them.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll teach you to fight, you teach me to lie. Deal?"

"Deal. Also, you know they're going to be alright, right? Abraham, Daryl, Glenn, Sasha. They're going to come back and Pied Piper this horde away, and then they're going to claim bragging rights for the rest of their lives."

"Abraham will be insufferable."

"I assume you mean more than he normally is."

She smiled, but the humor in it was muted. She was still worrying, always worrying. He narrowed his eyes determinedly. The situation was bleak, but damn if he wasn't going to bring some levity to it. To get her to smile for real.

Carl was waiting for them downstairs with Judith, his face pinched with frustration. Apparently Enid had snuck over the wall just before the walkers arrived. He'd wanted to go after her but Ron had stopped him and now he was in a mood.

Mason grinned at Judith, who smiled and reached for her.

"What's up, Little Asskicker?"

Carl handed his sister over to Mason, staring sullenly out the window.

"You're getting so big, kid. Stop growing up on me. Yep, that's my ear, it doesn't actually come off."

Eugene blinked as Mason swung into the living room, dancing and bouncing Judith in her arms. She sang lyrics in a goofy voice and Judith squealed joyfully, and Eugene felt the world come undone around him.

He couldn't explain it at first. How it could feel like falling, and yet there was no fear. How it felt like the end, and yet there was light. It was a knot, he realized. The world. _Existing_. Just a tangle of messes they hoped to outgrow, to crawl out of whole and unencumbered.

But she...

She was music. She was sunlight knifing through the confusion of his life.

He was in love with her. He'd known that for a while.

He hadn't known how much he could be in love with anyone until that moment, that one brief heartbeat to shatter it all.

Mason finally noticed him watching her and raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yes," he breathed. He was okay.

He was okay.

 **Mason**

"Aw, c'mon, Eugene, you can do better than that," Carl lamented.

"I can't," Eugene puffed. "She's a ninja."

For the fourth time in a row, Mason had him pinned. She perched on his back, looking around triumphantly at the group that had gathered. Carol was there with Carl and Little Asskicker, and Gabriel sat some distance away, to Mason's ire. It surprised her, however, that the majority of their audience were Alexandrians. She had a feeling they were looking for anything to distract them, anything to make them feel a little safer. Before the invaders attacked this might have irritated her, but now she felt a strange camaraderie with them.

"Alright," Eugene said. "You've made your point, now let me up."

Mason obliged and pulled Eugene to his feet, still with that smug smile. He grimaced.

"You don't have to look so self-congratulatory, missy. In the wise words of Bob Dylan, the wheel's still in spin. My time's comin' round, just you watch."

"Eugene, I could take you with my hands tied."

"Is that so."

"Uh, yeah."

He took her by surprise then, wrenching her arms behind her head in one graceful movement. He was careful with her injured arm, but his grip was firm and she couldn't pull free.

"What the fuck- how did you-"

"Hey, Carl!" he called, ignoring her. "Impromptu anatomy lesson. Would you like to know how many ribs a hotshot has?"

Mason jerked, suddenly desperate to break free. "No. Don't you fucking dare."

But Carl just grinned, catching on quickly. "Sure, teach."

"Carl, I swear to god, I will kick you so hard-"

"Don't worry, kid, she's all bark."

Mason continued to snarl until Carl started squeezing her rib cage. Instantly she broke down in giggles.

"You...f-f- _fuckers_!"

"Mason, stop squirming, you made me lose count."

"Carl, don't forget about that one right there, that one's very important."

Her strength failed her as Carl drilled his fingers into a middle rib. She let out a squeal that was anything but badass and dropped to her knees.

"Alright, I think that's enough. For future reference, a hotshot has as many ribs as you deem necessary to drive the lesson home," Eugene said.

Carl stepped away with a smirk. "Now I have a handy new weapon to use whenever you decide to steal the last candy bar."

"Oh, thanks for that, Eugene," Mason groaned. "And that _wasn't me,_ that was Michonne. Grudge-holding little shit..."

She scrambled to her feet, blushing at the smiles on her audience's faces.

"Square up, Eugene," she said. "You made your point."

They jumped back into their lesson, but as they did Eugene spoke in a quiet aside.

"I do apologize, Mason, but these people already know that you are a fighter, a damn good one, and because of that you have remained relatively unapproachable. Now they know you're human, too. We have no idea what our current situation will demand from us but it is clear that we will need to work together to get out of it. If they decide that they do not trust Rick to lead us from perdition they'll need someone else to turn to, someone who they feel is both physically and emotionally safe."

Mason blinked, so startled by his guile that he was able to pin her for the first time. The audience cheered.

He leaned down until his lips almost- almost but not quite- touched her ear.

"Also, it doesn't hurt that your smile could dazzle the sun right out of the sky."

Cheeks redder than ever, Mason said gruffly, "Well...good thinking then, tactical adviser. Now get the fuck off me."

~m~

Candlelight cast strange shadows on the tile walls, rippling in the steam. She still couldn't get used to having running water again, _hot_ water at that. She sat on the edge of the tub and held a hand under the faucet, marveling at the simple miracle of it...

Or maybe she was just trying to keep her mind from wandering where she didn't want it to.

The evening had started out innocent enough. She and Eugene had invited Carl and his friends over for a movie night, to distract them from everything for a few hours. Even without Enid or Ron, there had still been five teens fighting for space on the couch, plus Mason and Eugene, who'd tried in vain to offer more room by scooting to one side. They ended up scrunched so close together she may as well have been sitting on his lap. The proximity had made her feel...twittery.

She had tried to distract herself by mediating scuffles over the popcorn, arguing over which person was which Pokemon (she was Growlithe, Eugene was Psyduck), and debating what sequels were superior to their original (T2 was the only one they could all agree on). But each time she brushed against Eugene, or felt him looking at her, her heart would thunder to a new beat and her nerves would flare like hot coals.

She'd felt, ridiculously, like a kid herself. Like she was sixteen again, at the movies with her friends, flirting with the guy they all teased her about.

It was only when she realized her accidental touches had become intentional that she stood up, faked a yawn, and fled upstairs.

Now she hid, in the bathroom with her candles and her iPod, and prepared the first proper sit-down bath she'd had in nearly two years.

A part of her was excited for this brief return to normalcy.

Most of her was wondering if she shouldn't just take a cold shower instead.

God, what the hell was _wrong_ with her?

The world gone to shit, and all she could think of was the shape of Eugene's mouth? The TV illuminating the line of his jaw, the shirt sleeves hugging his arms...

 _Stop_.

She shut off the water and closed her eyes, just long enough to wrestle the thoughts from her mind. Then she shed her clothes and stepped delicately into the water.

It was always somewhat shocking to see her naked body, the ever-present topography of bruises and scars covering her skin. She thought she would've been used to it after so long but it never failed to startle her. She remembered a time when she was aware of each scar, paranoid over them. Now she could hardly keep track.

Absently she stroked a line down a long, pink welt on her thigh. Until her axe wound, it had been the largest of her scars, and it remained the one with the fuzziest origin. She could only remember the vaguest impression of being drunk, of spiraling with guilt, of Gina and a butcher knife...

But she didn't want to think about Gina. The dream was still too fresh, a wound oozing in her brain.

And Beth. Taking her to that forest every night, showing her...

But it was a dream,she reminded herself. A product of guilt, no matter how real it felt.

 _For one damn second. Relax._

She leaned back, careful to keep her stitches out of the water, and concentrated on the flicker of light and shadow on the walls.

She pictured this becoming her nightly routine, soaking sore muscles after tending gardens or leading sparring sessions. She pictured her wounds healing, her bruises fading. She pictured her dreams becoming dreams again.

She pictured herself collecting books, teaching writing classes, going on runs, decorating her room with things she liked. The _luxury_ of it. And every night she would sit in this tub and remind herself how lucky she was to have wound up in such a place. She pictured herself lighting the candles, playing the music. She pictured the walls would look just like this, and what a wonderful thing sameness could be.

She pictured Eugene knocking on the door, bearing towels, a change of clothes. Sleepwear, maybe. She'd tell him that the door was unlocked and in he'd come, looking anywhere but at her.

She knew exactly how her voice would sound, humming for him to come closer. Only then would he look at her, and she would reach for him. Her fingers would entwine with his like they'd done a dozen times before. Runners of water would trail down his wrist.

His lips would shape to hers like light to shadow. She would know intimately the shape of his jawline. Slowly she would draw his hand over the tub, into the water...

She sat up, so sharply that water sloshed over the side. Her uninjured hand jumped away from her inner thigh, where it had ghosted without her knowledge. Suddenly, everything was unbearably hot.

When she scrambled from the tub, she was quick to clothe herself. The thought of being naked for a second longer made her feel jittery.

 _Get your shit together,_ she thought. But though she eventually felt composed enough to leave the refuge of the bathroom, her heart refused to return to normal.

So much for relaxing.

~m~

Mason didn't recognize the hallway, the sun slanting in to illuminate bleached tile and sterile white walls. At the end of the hall, a figure in pale blue scrubs mopped the already spotless floor, humming brightly, and she was achingly familiar.

Beth flashed Mason a brilliant smile.

"I was wonderin' when you'd get here."

Mason stepped forward dizzily. No matter how many times she saw her face she could never get used to it. How beautiful she was. How much she missed her.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," she replied. "I got lost along the way."

Beth dropped the mop and took Mason's hand. "You're not lost," she said and led the way into a wide, sunlit room.

In a tangle of limbs they found themselves on a hospital bed, laughing and kissing, delirious in the each other's presence. Beth was everywhere, was all Mason could see and feel and taste.

And then her lips were at Mason's neck, at her jaw, at her ear. Whispering.

"I wanted this for us. So much. But you're all the things I'm waitin' to feel again. Dust, rain, skin. And I love you, I love you, the way the sky loves the earth, and I will wait forever for you, but I'm somethin' different now. I want so much for you. And what me and you could've had? You can have that now with _him_."

Mason stilled, the tears cutting a hot, jagged course down her cheeks.

"Who?" she whispered, but not because she didn't know.

Beth smiled and touched her face. "All this time you've been keepin' yourself from bein' happy. Waitin' for a sign. Well here it is." She leaned her forehead against Mason's. She smelled of summertime, of moonlight and tea.

"I love you, Mason. I want you to be _happy_."

The edges of the room were fading, taking with it the feel of Beth's skin. The ends of her hair sparkled out of existence moment by moment. And it felt like losing her all over again but somehow, somehow, _impossibly_ , like recovering every beautiful glimmer and more. So much more Mason could barely hold it inside of her. Her heart was bursting. Her tears were flooding. She grabbed Beth's hands though she could no longer feel them.

The last thing she saw before the dream winked away was the mischief in Beth's eyes, that teasing sparkle she would miss for the rest of her life.

"I think Magene is a perfect name, by the way."

~m~

She lay on the floor for a long time after opening her eyes. The sun wasn't up, but she felt astoundingly well-rested. Serene, as though she'd finally caught up on months of sleepless nights.

She could still feel Beth on her fingertips, on her collarbone, on the edge of her lips.

Nothing had changed, but everything felt different. Just slightly off reality. And it was peaceful. In spite of everything, for that moment, it seemed she'd hollowed out a little bit of harmony from the discord.

For so long, her family had been trying to convince her that what she already knew was okay. That she should let herself feel it. And she'd hid from all of them, from herself, from her own heart.

But Beth had given her blessing. And suddenly, though she was still afraid, still _terrified,_ it terrified her more to bury it.

It was a few minutes before she crawled into bed next to Eugene. She'd been right from the beginning. Lying there with him, in a bed, in a house, in a neighborhood of people who clung to what normalcy they could, it was different. She felt the shift quite distinctly, but it felt right.

A few minutes later and she was asleep again, perfectly dreamless.

~m~

"Did you happen to spot our pal Gabriel with his flock of thumpers?"

Mason curled her lip in distaste. Her and Eugene were heading for the courtyard, where she and Rosita were going to teach weapons training.

"Yes, I saw his little sewing circle. I don't know why Rick doesn't just get rid of him."

Eugene shrugged. "Carl said Gabriel was asking for lessons. Training. Said he seemed sincere this time."

"Right," she snorted. "He's sincerely lucky I haven't tossed him over the wall."

"How do you know he hasn't changed his tune?"

"People like that? They never do."

"I did."

Mason stopped, frowning. "That's different."

"How so?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but when she looked at him the words died. Neither of them had said anything about that morning, about waking up in the same bed. She knew Eugene probably assumed she'd had a nightmare and sought him out.

A blush colored her cheeks. She'd have to tell him the real reason, she knew. Whatever came after that, she'd deal with, but she couldn't keep it a secret forever.

Eugene blinked as the silence continued. "You alright?"

Before she could reply, a startled exclamation interrupted them.

"Glenn!"

Mason startled, looking around wildly. She saw Maggie running towards them with Rick and Deanna, their eyes on something in the sky. Confused, Mason followed their gaze.

Off in the distance, a cluster of green balloons rose slowly into the air, dotting the sky like strange birds.

A signal.

At the same time, a thunderous crack sounded from one of the watchtowers.

Her heart stopped. Everything moved in slow motion.

The building, damaged in the fight with the invaders, wavered wildly like rickety Jenga blocks.

Then, with an exhausted groan, it toppled into the wall, crushing the metal plates beneath it.

A moment later, the walkers followed.


	12. Sad Machine

Hello, friends! First thing's first: as always, a million thanks for your reviews and support. I seriously wouldn't have gotten this far without you guys. Second thing's second: this is my favorite episode, so I've been looking forward to writing this chapter pretty much from day one. I brought a few things full circle in this one, which was so much fun, and I just hope I did it the justice it deserves. I chose "Sad Machine" by Porter Robinson as the chapter title because it's such a sad, starry, hopeful song, it's just perfect. I hope to have the next chapter out very, very soon (I'm excited about that one, too, honestly), but until then, let me know what you think!

12\. Sad Machine

 **Mason**

The world lurched into a hideous blur. The walkers flooded through the opening in the wall. Thirty, forty, fifty...

Mason drew her fire poker and shoved Eugene back. "Get to the house!"

Though his whole body trembled, his eyes flashed defiantly. "I am not leaving without you."

"Goddammit, Eugene-"

She broke off as a pair of dead ones sought them out, swinging her iron hard enough that it ripped twin gashes in their abdomens. Their guts unraveled like twine, tripping them up. Eugene finished them off with his machete.

Rick raced toward them, waving them away from the wall. "Everybody get back! Get into your houses, go!" Then he raised his gun and began firing into the herd.

The community erupted with panicked screams. People raced haphazardly for the closest shelter they could get to. Mason caught a glimpse of Carl rushing toward Jessie's house, where she was babysitting Judith. Rosita and Tara were ushering Tobin out of the fray. Maggie was fighting her way back to the lookout platform.

Mason's mind whirled, trying to decide on the best course of action. But how the fuck could there _be_ a best course? It was a fucking disaster, and they were going to die, they were going to lose everything...

 _No._

She took a deep breath to center herself. Then she turned to Eugene.

"Don't argue with me," she said. "I need you to get as many people as you can into their houses. I have to stay here and make sure Rick and Maggie get out okay."

"But I-"

"Don't. Argue. We all have jobs to do."

The walkers descended a moment later, and Mason barely had time to push him away before they lost each other in the chaos.

Blazing with adrenaline, Mason took off in the direction she'd last seen Rick. But already there were so many walkers that she could no longer spot him. She swallowed the fear swelling in her throat. Rick was okay. He could take care of himself. Eugene was okay. Everyone was going to be okay. She would make sure of it.

A few yards away, Maggie hurried along the wall. Walkers trailed after her, snarling and swiping and catching their skeletal fingers in her shirt. One of them managed to wrench her back, and though Maggie was able to pull free her ankle twisted under her and sent her to the ground.

Mason took off, cleaving a path through the dead. Blood sprayed into the air, but for every walker she took down, two more took its place. They pushed themselves between her and Maggie like a surging ocean. There were just too many to reach her.

" _Fuck_ ," she hissed and changed her fire poker for her gun. She took aim quickly.

Maggie looked up as two walkers crumpled at her feet. Mason took down a third before being forced to pause; the dead flocked around her. In a few seconds she would be completely surrounded.

"Maggie, go! Hurry!" she shouted, knocking a walker away before it could take a bite of her shoulder. She raised her gun and fired a fourth time, clearing the way for Maggie to make it to the platform.

And then she was out of time. With a low snarl, she burst through the closing ranks of the walkers and retreated, belting her gun. But as she swung her fire poker, reaping a path away from the wall, her heart stopped.

In a matter of minutes, half of the community had filled with walkers. They dissected the community, easily two hundred cold bodies, and more surging through the breach every second.

And she was cut off. There were too many to fight through to get to a building. She was fairly positive she would die if she tried. But she couldn't stay where she was, either, and there was no way to Maggie's platform. No way to the wall. No way out.

 _I am going to die,_ she realized dizzily, but swinging her iron regardless. It was funny when she thought about it, how she'd wanted exactly that not long ago.

Funny that she was getting exactly what she wanted, right after realizing she didn't want it at all.

 _No, Mason,_ came the voice, so quiet she might've imagined it.

 _You're not going to die. You're going to fight._

In the same moment, her eyes fell on the tree, maybe six yards away. Young, but sturdy enough to hold her. Tall enough to save her, if she could make it there.

She leapt into action, whirling the iron with new vigor. And with every step, like the faintest warmth, she felt as though Beth was right there with her, shadowing every movement, setting her blood on fire.

Walkers spilled around her, and the path to salvation was one of near misses. So many times she heard the click of teeth just inches from her face, choked on the fetid breath of the dead. But her footing was sure and swift, her muscles primed for battle, and somehow, after an eternity of blood, after no time at all, she was at the tree. She lunged for the lowest branch and pulled herself up, swinging her feet into a crook before the walkers could grab them.

They piled below, gnashing their crooked teeth, pawing at the branches. The tree wavered under the abuse but held steady. She crouched several feet above them, laying the fire poker across her legs as she caught her breath.

Her eyes swept across the community. It was difficult to see through the horde, but she thought maybe everyone had made it to safety. There were no bodies that she could see, and no pockets of walkers paused over a kill.

She sagged with relief, pressing her forehead against the tree trunk, and allowed herself a moment to rest.

 **Eugene**

"Where the hell are you going?"

He thought about ignoring her. His hand was on the door, ready to shove back through into the mob. There were already twenty or more gathering around the garage they'd taken shelter in, pounding on the walls, staining the windows red.

"I'm going to find Mason," he said.

Rosita stepped forward, angling herself between him and the exit. "Um, no, you're not. Do you see that out there?"

"Miss Espinoza, my eyes work just fine. Please get out of my way."

"Eugene, you will fucking die, are you _crazy_?"

"Yes, I am," he replied. And it did feel like it. His lungs only worked in jarring, inconsistent rhythms. His heart felt like it was going to vaporize, or else burst right through his ribs. He could barely keep his thoughts in order. All he could picture was Mason, disappearing into that herd. He was crazy. He was crazy for leaving her out there by herself, what the fuck was he _thinking_?

"Eugene, she's right."

That was Tara, standing just behind him. Her voice was softer, the antithesis to Rosita's fire. He felt, strangely, like he was caught between a good cop and a bad cop.

"You can't just run out there without a plan," she continued. "Okay, what would Mason think if you got yourself killed?"

He flinched, but shook the thought away. "Then I just won't get myself killed."

Rosita snorted. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

"Well, I apologize, but it's proving surprisingly difficult to base any decisions on logic when I have no idea whether the love of my goddamn life is safe or not."

It took him a moment to realize what he'd said, and even longer to feel any kind of embarrassment about it. It suddenly seemed so stupid, the fear of revealing how he felt. He didn't take it back. He just watched as Tara and Rosita exchanged a glance- not surprised, really. More impressed. Like they'd never expected he'd have the balls to say it.

"I know. I know," Tara said, touching his arm gently. "But Mason's smart, she can handle herself. We really need to think about our next move. Okay? You're thinking like Abraham here."

Immediately Tara's eyes widened. She turned to Rosita, whose lips had drawn into a thin line.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's fine," Rosita growled. "We need to decide on our play."

She didn't move away from the door until Eugene did. It felt like blasphemy, like pieces of him were fraying open with every step he took away from the exit. He knew they were right, that it would be suicide to leave without a plan.

But it would be suicide to lose Mason. It would be _worse_ than dying. Not long ago, he'd thought he'd wanted to live more than anything else. But the thought of life without her? He couldn't stand it.

How could his heart keep beating without hers?

His chest tightened. He would not lose her. He would not. The sky could fall, the oceans could dry out, the whole damn planet could catch fire, but when the end came he would have his fingers threaded through hers. Partners in crime.

Rosita sat at a table in the middle of the garage, her expression pensive. Tara peered out the garage door windows. Eugene paced around the room, trying desperately to organize his thoughts.

He didn't know where Mason was. That was the biggest problem, though he was ninety-eight percent certain she was still somewhere on the other side of the compound. She could have made it to a house, or she could have been cornered outside somewhere, or a dozen other things could have happened. Even if he was able to hold his own long enough to escape the garage, he wouldn't be able to fight forever, certainly not long enough to search the whole community for her. And there were too many walkers to sneak past. They'd find him eventually.

Suddenly, he thought of the invader. The one in the walker-skin.

He thought of the very first time he'd seen Mason, in her cloak of walker guts.

His eyes narrowed.

There was not enough time to skin a walker; he figured it had been purely theatrical in any case. But gutting one required no precision, and hardly any time. All he had to do was snatch one from outside.

One glance at Tara and Rosita, however, and he knew it would not be so simple. It was a risky plan, and if they shot it down he would lose the opportunity to do it by himself. He would have to get away from them somehow.

His gaze landed at once on the only other door in the garage, the one leading into the house. It was locked from the inside, but he could pick it easily enough. The house was too big; there were plenty of places he could sneak off to without them noticing.

Once the plan had laid itself in front of him, he moved without hesitation, no longer pacing absently but searching instead for something to pick the lock with. The garage was sparse but there had to be something.

Tara glanced curiously at him, then at Rosita, before speaking. "We got a lot of people into their houses. There's that."

Eugene didn't reply. It was a good thing. But the part of him that was glad about it was engulfed by the part of him that could only picture Mason's face.

Rosita shook her head, silent for a moment. Now that she'd convinced him not to leave, the fire had died from her eyes. The bleakness in them knotted his stomach with anxiety.

"You think this is it?" she asked quietly.

Tara blinked. "What?"

"Do you think this place is over?"

Eugene tried not to think to much about what he thought the answer might be.

"No," Tara said. "I think we gotta earn it, all of us. Whether it's waiting, knowing if everyone's safe. Dealing with that." She looked pointedly at Eugene, who busied himself looking through a shelf of books and forgotten junk. "Or whether it's fighting them. A place like this has gotta have a price, right?"

Rosita let out an incredulous laugh. "We haven't paid it already?"

"Apparently not."

Eugene frowned and began opening books at random, shaking out their pages. What else could they possibly have to give?

"It feels like Abraham's dead."

Rosita's voice shook. A shard of ice lodged in Eugene's chest.

Abraham dead? There was no way. He was a constant. He was a rock. He couldn't be dead.

But Tara refused to be rattled. She smiled reassuringly at Rosita and said, "He's not dead."

"How do you know?"

"Cause I didn't see it. It doesn't matter what it feels like, he's not dead and this place isn't over. We're _here_. So what are we gonna do, gorgeous?"

After a moment, the barest hint of a smile touched Rosita's face. There was no light in it, but it was there. She nodded to herself and stood up.

"I'm gonna get in the house. See what's happening on the other side." She stood a few feet from the door and raised her gun.

In the same moment, a paperclip rattled out of a history book and into Eugene's hand. He smiled grimly.

"We shouldn't waste a bullet," he said and held up his treasure. "But lock picking is within my skill set."

They stepped out of the way to let him work. He was quick and efficient. How many times had he done this? Too many to count, certainly. One of his mother's many punishments had been to lock him in his room, once for three days straight. Lock picking had been a skill he'd acquired out of necessity. When she left the apartment, he would sneak out for food and water, always mindful to be back in his cell by the time she returned.

When the lock clicked free, Tara grinned. "Teach me that sometime, alright?"

"When all this is over, I'll lead a workshop on disreputable activity. Teach all the rest of you how to be shady motherfuckers, too."

Once inside, all of them drew their weapons.

"We should make a sweep from room to room," Eugene murmured. "Check both for extra weapons and uninvited guests."

Rosita and Tara nodded and split up, and when they were gone he hurried for the bedroom. Every house's layout was basically the same in Alexandria, and he remembered seeing French doors in the downstairs bedroom of his own, back when they were divvying up space.

Sure enough, there they were. A few walkers had gathered at them, but not nearly as many as there were around the garage. Quickly he opened them up, dispatching them all with his machete. Then he dragged one of the bodies inside.

He made quick work of gutting it before stripping the bed of its sheets and assembling them into a rough cloak. He slathered it in as much gore as he could. The smell was atrocious and he swallowed hard to keep from gagging.

When its previous white was unrecognizable he donned the cloak, tying it off around the neck to keep it on his shoulders. The exit remained clear, but the cacophony of the walkers was unremitting, and the full gravity of his plan descended on him then with the force of a rock slide.

 _I'm probably going to die,_ he thought, and fuck, he was terrified. It felt like all he consisted of was dread, that his atoms had ceased to be atoms and instead had become the gasoline burn of pure fear.

He breathed in shakily before shading his face with the hood of his cloak.

There would be time to be afraid later. They all had jobs to do.

 **Mason**

She didn't know how long it had been, but the sun had nearly set. Maybe an hour. Already her muscles were cramping with the tension of staying locked in one position. There was only enough room to stretch a limb at a time, and even that was a gamble. Stiff as she was, she knew it would be too easy to lose her balance and tumble into the knot of tireless walkers below.

As twilight fell, her desperation increased. How the fuck was she going to get out of this? Would she have to wait for someone to find her? How long would that be? Briefly she toyed with the idea of gutting one, covering herself in dead blood. But she didn't think the trick would work if the walkers saw her do it, and even if it did it might take a while for them to lose interest.

About twenty minutes went by before she heard the gunshot, just one sharp report from the center of the neighborhood.

The breath caught in her throat.

Who was it?

Who had decided to brave the herd?

Whoever it was, she had no doubt that they were dead.

 **Eugene**

When he saw the others, he didn't realize at first what was going on. He recognized Rick and Carl, decked out in garb similar to his own, and Ron a few feet away, aiming a gun at them.

Then he noticed the cluster of walkers behind them, and Jessie's face staring lifelessly out at him.

"Shit," he breathed and drifted toward them, wishing he could run, wishing he could maneuver faster through the crowd.

Before he reached them, Michonne appeared, lancing her sword through Ron's chest.

The gun went off.

A moment later, Carl collapsed, blood covering one side of his face.

Eugene's stomach lurched. "No," he rasped. " _No_."

He started running then, careless of the walkers that turned to follow his movement, but he was able to cover the last few yards without incident. Rick had an unconscious Carl in his arms, and Eugene realized that it was his eye that the bullet had hit.

Trembling with terror, Eugene fell in step with Michonne and began hacking a path to the infirmary. Rick followed at their heels, sobbing Carl's name over and over.

 _please let him be alright please please_

Denise opened the door as they came up the front porch, barking orders over her shoulder at Aaron and Heath.

"This was a gunshot?" she asked as Rick set Carl down on the gurney.

"Save him," was all he managed to rasp. "Please save him."

"Handgun," Eugene answered, as it was clear Rick would not be able to. "Close range."

"Alright. Bring that lamp over here."

Eugene obeyed immediately, ignoring a protest from Heath that it would draw the walkers to them.

"I need light," Denise snapped. "Michonne, hold this towel here, okay? Press firmly but leave me room to reach his eye."

Rick backed away from the operating table, quivering and covered in sweat. His hand rested on the hatchet at his belt. His eyes darted repeatedly to the door, dark with an emotion that Eugene couldn't place but which filled him with foreboding.

"Rick-"

"Eugene, I need you!"

He was reluctant to look away from Rick, whose expression had become dangerously unhinged, but Carl was running out of time. He darted to Denise's side.

"I need you to hold the lamp for me, okay? Right here, over his face. Hold it steady. I need both hands free-"

"Rick."

Michonne's voice, sharp with alarm, caught his attention. He looked up in time to see Rick open the door and stride back out into the chaos.

"No!" Eugene jerked toward him, remembering only at the last second that he needed to remain where he was.

" _Rick_!"

Michonne made to run after him but Denise grabbed her hand. "I need you to stay here."

"No, no, Rick's out there."

"Hold on-"

" _He needs me_!"

"This is his son. Give me a second."

Michonne's chin trembled, but after a moment she nodded. It took a concerted effort for Eugene to hold still, too. Rick was out there, Mason was out there. _He_ should be out there.

"He's taking them all on," Aaron said. "We have to go, we have to help him."

"Are you serious?" Heath replied.

"This is it. This is our stand."

Finally, Denise pulled the bullet free of Carl's eye. "Alright, Michonne, go. Eugene, I need you to stay here."

"But-"

" _Stay_. I need the light to stitch him up."

Michonne kissed Carl's forehead before rushing outside, tailed by Aaron and Heath. When the door slammed shut, Eugene felt it like a crack of thunder in his own chest.

His people needed him.

His people _needed him_.

But Carl was bleeding out on the gurney.

He stifled his agitation and focused on keeping the light steady.

 **Mason**

Not long after the first gunshot, another came from farther away. Mason sat up in her perch, her heart jackhammering into her throat. Was it the same person as before? Was it someone else?

She bared her teeth at the walkers below, seething with frustration that they had trapped her here, a cat in a tree. Her people _needed_ her.

That was when she spotted Rick, a lone figure in the sea of the dead. He had successfully cut himself a pocket in their ranks with his hatchet, and though he made no headway moving forward, he held his own.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she breathed, hands gripped so tight around the tree her knuckles had gone white. She kept waiting to see him go down, terrified to, but he never did.

Then suddenly, Michonne was there, whirling gracefully to his side. And Aaron and Heath, too. A moment later, Eric and Spencer joined them.

 _Fighting,_ she thought faintly. _They're fighting._

Suddenly she didn't think she could stand one more second corralled in this tree. Edgily she uncurled from her huddle, gasping at the immediate flood of pins and needles in her legs. There had to be a way out, there had to be a way to get to her people.

She took quick inventory of her weapons- fire iron, gun, knife. She had only two bullets left, so she'd have to make them count. The iron she knew she'd likely rely on most heavily, but she paused before sheathing her knife.

She couldn't trick the walkers into thinking she was one of them.

But she could bleed.

 **Eugene**

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally, _finally,_ Denise tied off the last suture.

"Do you need me for anything else?" he asked. Breathless with fear. Breathless with the need to spill blood.

"No, we'll be okay now. But Eugene." She fixed him with grave eyes. "Mason. I saw her. Left side of the compound. The walkers had her cornered in a tree."

His knees shook. Briefly he clutched her arm, the only thanks he could manage. Then he grabbed his machete and ran out the door.

Rick and the others had taken off in the opposite direction. He'd have to find Mason on his own. Pausing only briefly to take a steadying breath, he launched himself into the dead.

 **Mason**

The branch lurched beneath her and she grew still, praying it would hold. She was out as far as she could go, belly-down, feet braced against the trunk, and a good bunch of the walkers had followed her, just as she'd hoped.

Carefully she held one arm above them. In her other hand she held the knife. Slowly, squeezing herself against the branch as tightly as she dared, she brought the knife to her palm and cut, long and precise.

She flexed her hand. Blood dripped down into the group of walkers, who opened their mouths like kids hoping to catch snowflakes. A few of them stooped to lick stray drops from the ground.

Smiling grimly, she pressed her bleeding palm to a branch next to her. When it was thoroughly coated in red, she snapped it from the tree and tossed it into the flock.

They took the bait, diving for it with vicious snarls. Mason didn't hesitate. While they were distracted, she leapt from the tree.

She staggered a bit in her landing but didn't fall. She kept moving, ripping a shred of fabric from her shirt as she did. A few seconds passed before any walkers noticed her, and she was able to properly bandage the wound before necessity demanded she fight.

 **Eugene**

He was coated from head to toe in walker blood, but no matter how many he took down he never seemed to make a dent. The cloak was still working; most of them ignored him until it was too late, and he was able to cut a steady path back in the direction of the fallen watchtower.

His eyes darted continually to every tree he saw, but each one was empty of anything except leaves. His heart began to race at the possibility that he was too late, that he'd missed Mason, that something had happened to her.

And then.

And then he saw her, alone in the middle of everything, pivoting and swinging like a dancer through the dead. She was savage and beautiful, and his heart swelled with something more than relief, something he had no name for. It set a fire in him, raging along his veins in complicated patterns, driving him forward with the kind of lithe energy he'd always admired in other people but never himself.

He was a fighter. He always had been. It had just taken him a while to believe it.

 **Mason**

There were so goddamn many. Dozens and dozens came spilling at her like a river broken through a dam. Still she fought on, ignoring the burn in her muscles, pretending that this was nothing more than a work out session.

 _You'll make it out of this,_ she told herself. _And when you do you're going to take a long, hot bath, and you're going to fucking enjoy it._

She laughed a little, one hysterical cough, because how the fuck could she be thinking about baths when she was literally surrounded by death?

She'd long since lost sight of Rick and the others. They were moving away from her. She didn't know if she'd be able to catch up.

Suddenly, one of the walkers she thought she'd decapitated snared her ankle. Its head was nearly severed, hanging on only by tendons; it trailed gruesomely on the ground as it dragged itself toward her foot.

She stumbled, freeing herself but catapulting into a pair of dead ones with fully-tethered heads. They snapped at her, just inches from her face, her neck. She tried to shove herself away but her left hand sunk deep into one walker's chest. The other lurched back, but the one with the gooey chest clutched her arm and held on tight.

Out of nowhere, something small and silver flashed into her field of vision. The walker's head snapped to the side, its body going slack.

A knife protruded from just above its ear.

She scrambled back as it fell, prying free of its rotten body, and looked up to see where the blade had come from.

Eugene stood poised a few yards away, looking rugged and deadly in the middle of his own storm of walkers. He was decked out in a cloak dyed entirely with walker guts, the hood pulled up over his head like a reaper.

Their eyes met.

Hers widened with shock.

His narrowed with exasperation.

When he spoke, it was to holler the first words she'd ever said to him.

"Move, dumbass!"

Then he raised his machete and began scything a notch through the swarm.

A starburst of emotion seared her chest and the world narrowed to that one spark, the dazzling sun materializing right where her heart was. Suddenly she was a wild, lively thing, whirling through the crowd with her iron like it was an extension of herself. Her mouth stretched in a grin so wide it hurt her face, yet she couldn't stop.

It was a crazy, crazy thing, to feel so abruptly happy in such thorough hell.

She fought her way to him, as he fought his way to her. The walkers fell before them like dominoes, suddenly no more than meaningless husks in the tempest of their desire to reach each other, the flame linking them like an unbreakable rope. The ever-widening circles of their carnage drew closer and closer together, forming a path like the parting of the Red Sea.

And then.

And then.

The way was suddenly clear, and Mason broke into a run. She was a light, light thing, practically weightless, and in that moment nothing mattered except that Eugene was _there,_ he was _alive_ , and she loved him more than life itself.

He ran to meet her, the hood his cloak fluttering back to reveal his face, which was luminous with the same fire coursing through her, rending every doubt, every shadow, to nothing.

They met in the center of it all, their bodies colliding, their arms clutching like magnets, and every fear she'd ever had burned to ash.

She grabbed his face and he grabbed hers, and she didn't know who moved first but suddenly they were kissing, desperate, insistent, their roaming hands clutching at shirt collars, tangling in hair. Holding each other up as the world came down around them, reordered and reshaped into something new.

She never wanted to stop. She never wanted not to be touching him, to not feel his skin on hers, his warmth melting into her body. God, she loved him, _she loved him_ , and she wasn't interested in feeling anything else again.

When they broke apart, the look on Eugene's face dissolved her like sugar. His cheeks were flushed with shyness and exhilaration, his eyes wide with utter surprise.

And the love there. The love she thought she'd never feel again, shining right back at her like the purest starlight.

"We...we should probably find the others," he said, in a voice as breathless and buoyant as she felt.

She blinked, suddenly remembering where they were. "Oh. Right. The end of the world."

His hand slid to cup the back of her neck. She shivered a bit at the feel of his thumb, stroking gently through her hair.

"I don't believe this is the end. At all," he said. "And I'm a scientist, so..."

She laughed. "C'mon. Before we get eaten."

They'd dropped a good portion of the walkers in their area, but already more were gathering, shambling to reform a ragged circle around them.

Eugene took her hand, like he'd done so many times before, but now it sent a dagger of heat through her body. "I know where the others went."

They moved as a single entity. Two halves of a whole, perfect synchronicity. They were meteors, they were alive, they were birds cutting open the sky, they were alive.

The walkers bore down on them in swells of disintegrating flesh but still they pushed forward, slinging their weapons with starlit fury. She had never seen Eugene so deft in a fight before. He had finally been awakened.

Mason's heart leapt when the others finally came in sight. There were more of them now- in fact it looked like everybody in the entire community had joined the fight.

"Holy shit. Holy shit," she breathed and exchanged an amazed glance with Eugene.

"Mason! Eugene!"

There was Tara, fighting alongside Olivia and Gabriel. Just past them, Carol and Tobin stood back-to-back, and Spencer and Morgan held a position next to them.

A rush of devotion dizzied her. _My family,_ she thought. They were _hers_ , she belonged to them, and she'd never been more proud.

She and Eugene drove forward until they joined the ranks of their people. The walkers locked them all in a tight circle, forcing them back, closer and closer to the wall. They were horribly outnumbered, poised at every heartbeat on the brink of disaster, but her hope never flickered.

If they were going down, she wanted to go down together.

But she didn't think they were going to.

 _This is not the end,_ she thought, and grinned a ferocious grin.

"Everybody! Back up!" Rick shouted, ushering everyone around him.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, refusing to break rank, refusing to surrender. Briefly, as fleeting as the brush of a butterfly, Eugene touched his fingertips to hers. It was the last stand. They would die or win as one.

It was then that, out of nowhere, a cloud of flames erupted from the center of town.

Mason and her family startled, watching as it climbed into the air, washing the community with golden light. The walkers turned, spellbound like a flock of moths.

Her blood surged. "This is it!" she shouted and lunged forward, swinging her fire poker like a sword. Rick and Eugene flanked her, leading the rest. Their weapons flashed like torches, their battle cries lancing the night. Blood filled the air like mist.

Then, suddenly, Daryl was there, and Sasha and Abraham, Glenn and Maggie and Enid.

And Lori.

And T-Dog.

Bob shouting encouragement and Merle shouting obscenities.

Tyreese looming protectively next to his sister. Noah flitting agilely through the dead with Bill right behind him. Hershel with his leg restored.

And Beth. Dancing in the firelight like an angel of death, knife glinting, eyes like steel.

She knew it was just her imagination. Just the frantic play of light and shadow and her own exhausted heart. But it didn't matter. In that moment, she was convinced, they were together again, all of them.

They fought their way back from the wall, back toward the center of town, where the pond blazed with flames.

Nobody stopped.

Nobody turned back.

They fought until the last walker fell.

And after, when their home was theirs again, the walls, the houses, the streets and trees and backyards, they stood for a long time as one, watching the smoke twirl like spirits into the stars.


	13. Adore

Hello, all! First off, many, many thanks for your kind reviews, it always makes me so happy to see them. A fair bit of warning for adult content in this chapter, just so you're all aware (it kind of makes me nervous to write that, but I promise it's not gross or anything lol) The song for this chapter title is "Adore" by Amy Shark, a perfect nostalgic portrayal of that feeling you get when you're hopelessly in love with someone. Next chapter will finally be that Alpha/Gina chapter I've been promising (yay, answers!). And until then, as always, let me know what you think!

13\. Adore

The sun was coming up, glazing the sky with lavender hues. Smoke hung over the community in spectral wisps, carrying with it the stench of burning bodies. Mason hefted a walker over her shoulder, one of countless, and began carrying it to the breach.

Eugene passed her on his way back into the community. Immediately her thoughts turned to helium, and her face cracked in a silly, blushing grin. Eugene grinned back and for that moment they were kids again, sneaking out after midnight, stealing kisses when no one was looking.

Jesus fuck, _kisses_...

Mason stopped herself just short of walking into the wall and shook her head. What good was she if she couldn't even concentrate on the simplest tasks?

She and Eugene had been at it for a good three hours, clearing bodies and dispatching all the walkers who weren't fully dead. They had been the first to initiate this task while the others gathered at the infirmary. No one had been seriously hurt except for Carl, but she was trying not to think about that. She was trying to focus only on how lucky they had all been to survive, and how he would be clamoring for the full, glorious tale when he woke up.

Deanna, Jessie, and her sons had been the only ones to die, though Mason couldn't summon up any kind of remorse over Ron. Not after he'd been willing to kill Rick. Not after he put Carl in the infirmary.

She dumped the body in the bed of a pickup truck. It was nearly full again- they had already taken five batches down the quarry and it wasn't even a fraction of the graveyard that remained. Morgan and Aaron had left to scout out a bigger trucker, maybe a semi, but they hadn't returned yet. Still, somehow, she didn't feel exhausted by the prospect of so much hard work. She felt like she could go on forever.

Walking back through the compound, she spotted Glenn and Maggie picking their way toward her through the corpses. Mason smiled at their clasped hands, joyful beyond words that they were reunited.

Glenn wrapped his arms around her. "Maggie told me what you did," he murmured. "Thank you."

"Thank you for coming home," she replied.

When he stepped away, he exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Maggie, who smiled and nodded. She took Mason's hands in hers.

"Aaron already knows, and Denise of course. But I wanted you to know before I tell the others." She paused, eyes sparkling. "Glenn and I are gonna have a baby."

Mason blinked. " _What_?"

Maggie nodded, biting her lip the way Beth used to when she was nervous.

"Oh my god, Maggie, that's incredible. Holy shit."

She hugged her tightly, trying to stifle the anxiety that bubbled in her own stomach. She couldn't help remembering Lori and how that had ended, Rick laying on the ground as he sobbed her name...

 _That's not going to happen,_ she thought firmly.

"So I'm gonna have a little niece or nephew," she said. "Man. I'm gonna have to stop cursing so much."

Glenn grinned. "Well we'll know who to blame if our child's first word is 'fuck'."

They set to work helping her and Eugene clear bodies, despite her protest that Maggie should rest.

"I'm pregnant, I ain't dyin'," was Maggie's tart response and Mason decided not to poke that bear.

Daryl, Abraham and Sasha joined them, and a while later Morgan and Aaron showed up with a dump truck. The work went a lot smoother after that, though there were still frequent trips to the quarry and back.

Around noon, Eugene and Mason collapsed under a tree to catch a bit of sleep. By then everyone had pitched in to help, excluding Rick and Denise, who were keeping an eye on Carl. She felt so wired she wasn't sure she'd be able to drift off, but as soon as she sprawled on the grass she was out like a light.

Carol woke them a few hours later, bearing a lunch of tomato sandwiches and lemonade. All three of them sat beneath that tree while they ate, and soon Daryl and Rosita and Abraham came over to join them, and it felt, absurdly and insistently, like one big picnic. Mason almost couldn't finish her food. Every time she looked around her at the faces of her family, both old and new, her stomach fluttered with fierce joy.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so excited to live.

It was about an hour later, and half of the bodies had been cleared from the streets, when Rick appeared from the infirmary.

Everyone paused. Mason's throat tightened at the sight of the tears in his eyes. Eugene reached out to take her hand, his face pinched with apprehension.

Finally Rick said, in a weak voice, "Carl's awake. Denise is with him now."

Relief made her knees tremble. Everyone erupted in cheers. Eugene let out the breath he'd been holding and squeezed her hand, and when she looked into his eyes it only reinforced what had been growing in her chest.

This was it. This was their new beginning.

~m~

When Mason and Eugene stepped into the house, the first thing that became electrically, vividly clear was that it was just the two of them. They hadn't truly been alone together since their kiss, and until Michonne dismissed them from cleanup duty she hadn't realized how much of her avoidance had been intentional. It wasn't that she didn't want to be alone with him. Quite the opposite. She _wanted_ him, in ways she could barely control, in ways she didn't _want_ to control. And now it was just them, alone in a house with so many bedrooms...

Mason cleared her throat, blushing furiously. "Well, uhm...I don't know about you, but I think I could use a shower," she said, gesturing to the walker grime covering her head to toe.

"I won't argue that."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "Shut up, you asshole."

There was a beat of silence. And then...

"Care to join me?"

The words were out before she could stop herself, and though she meant them to be flirtatious they mostly sounded hopelessly wispy. But she didn't take them back.

Eugene blinked several times, comically bewildered. She might've laughed if her heart hadn't decided to start doing flips.

"I...you... _me_?"

"No, the other guy I kissed last night."

"Oh, well, um, I...I cannot currently compose any reasons why I shouldn't..."

"Whoa. Chill with the romance there, guy."

"N-no, I just meant... Would it be gentlemanly of me if I...you know...um..."

She did laugh then, a nervous little croak. "I don't know anything about being a gentleman. Besides, I'm _asking_. But if you don't want to..."

Eugene frowned. "Mason, I would be remiss if I did not confess that I have never wanted anything more in my life."

"Then stop stammering and come on."

She took his hand and led him upstairs, practically crackling with nervous energy, but just as she was pushing her way into the bathroom Abraham's voice called from downstairs.

"Eugene! Sorry to be a thorn in your ass, buddy, but Daryl and I need your expertise. Truck's bein' a little bitch."

Mason hung her head, smiling in amused despair. Eugene returned it and kissed her forehead before heading back downstairs.

~m~

He was gone long enough for Mason to entertain her doubts, alone under the covers in nothing but her towel. She thought it would have lent her confidence, showering the grime from her skin, but instead all she felt was terribly exposed.

What if he didn't like what he saw? What if he was expecting something different?

And beyond that, what about after? Eugene was her best friend. She valued her relationship with him more than anything, but this was going to change everything. Could she risk that? She was so entrenched in her own misgivings that it startled her when the door opened.

Eugene had showered, too. He was no longer covered in walker blood. His hair was rumpled and damp, and he wore a fresh change of clothes. A blue shirt that fit him rather enticingly...

She shook her head. "So did you fix the truck?"

"Yes. I also suffered at the receiving end of some seriously vitriolic looks from Daryl. I think he may...oh."

Mason had drawn the edge of the blanket down, just enough to reveal her bare shoulders and a fair bit of cleavage. Eugene swallowed.

"Wow."

Nervously she giggled. "Eugene, it's literally just my shoulders."

"Yes, but they're beautiful shoulders."

And just like that, her fears seemed inconsequential.

This was the man she loved. That was enough.

Warmed from head to toe, Mason slid out of bed and glided forward until they stood just inches apart. Then she let the towel fall to the floor.

Eugene blushed bright red. "Mason..." he breathed, and the sound of her name on his lips made her ache with desire.

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed him, pressing her body against his, unable to get close enough. Her teeth grazed his bottom lip and he let out a low growl. The sound set off a round of fireworks in her chest.

They dragged each other to the bed. Mason's hands worked frantically, unbuttoning his shirt, undoing his belt. They laughed without breaking their kiss as he squirmed clumsily out of his shorts. A hot red flame burned deep in her belly at the sight of him in nothing more than his boxers, but he stopped her before she could remove them.

"Mason, I...I've never been with anyone before so...if I'm not _good_ , I...apologize."

Gently she touched his face, careful of the stitches on his cheek. "I haven't either, you know. I mean, I've never been with a man before. This is a first for me, too."

"O-oh. Well. Okay."

Her face turned devious as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"I have been told, however, that I'm fantastic with my tongue."

With that she kissed his neck, drew a line with her tongue down to his collarbone and worried it with her teeth. When she moved to his chest, she felt the hum of his quiet groan beneath her mouth.

"C'mere," he murmured, husky with lust. He lifted her face and kissed her again, hands clutching at her waist, the small of her back. Her tongue ghosted past his lips, her hands past the waistband of his boxers.

When she touched him, he let out a sharp gasp and shuddered.

She grinned smugly. "And fantastic with my hands, too, apparently."

He grunted acknowledgement and pressed her into the mattress, kissing her neck, her shoulders, the swell of her breasts. She sighed, wrapping her legs around his to draw him closer.

Then she paused. "Wait, wait. Do you, you know, have anything?"

It took him a moment and then his eyes went wide. "Oh, Jesus, right."

She watched as he clamored rather awkwardly out of bed and dug into the pocket of his shorts. She raised an eyebrow when he pulled out the condom.

"For as badly as you flirt, you're pretty self-assured."

He threw her a withering glare, marred only by his blush. "I may have filched it from Abraham's stash after repairing the truck," he confessed. "The good Lord knows I never could have asked him and I didn't...I didn't know if you'd want the others to know about us anyway."

Mason frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're you and I'm me. When people see you, I am confident they would never assume you were with someone like me."

She bristled. "Maybe they wouldn't but I don't see why it matters because I can't see myself with anyone else. I'm _yours_ , and I will shout it from a fucking mountaintop if I have to. Now get over here because I swear if I don't make love to you right this fucking second I'm going to burst."

Bashfully he returned to her and she wrapped him in her embrace, planting sweet, smoky kisses all over his body. She took the condom and slid it over his length, and he shivered.

"Let me know if I hurt you," he whispered.

But it didn't hurt. She craved him so badly that all she felt when she finally guided him into her was a deep and smoldering pleasure.

Suddenly she was aware of her body in ways she never had been before. Her fingers, the brush of her stomach against Eugene's, her thighs and the space between, where he filled her. Every pulse point throbbed with heat like brilliant sunlight. The world was a haze of bliss and yet she felt awake, alert, alive.

Desperately she clutched him, drawing him closer, deeper, and rocked her hips against his. There was nothing but him and the places he electrified within her, nothing but the smell of him and the feel of his skin on hers. And the _sounds_ he made...

It was too much. Holding him tight, she let out a breathless cry and shuddered with release. And a moment later, when he did as well, she thought she might again.

After, tangled in his arms, she felt like a star burning the night into day.

~m~

Hours later, when she awoke from a thick, dreamless sleep, it was to the bright, milky gold of late morning. The night before came rushing back in a flood of heat and she squirmed a little under the covers.

"Morning, sunshine."

He was curled up next to her, as naked as she was under the blanket. His voice was still sleepy. The sound was honey and granite, sunset and dust.

Shyly she smiled. "Morning."

"I had a dream," he rasped, brushing absently through his disheveled hair. "That we were on a beach, watching the stars come out. There were so many of them, and they were all reflected in the ocean so it made it feel like we were out in space or something... But when I looked at you, you were...I don't really know how to explain it, honestly. It was like you were part of the sky, too. Transparent in a way, but full of stars. You were so happy, Mason."

He reached out to cup her face, and the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world... She _did_ feel crowded with stars.

"I don't think I could ever be happier than I am right now," she murmured.

She stretched luxuriously, letting the blanket fall to reveal her nakedness. Then she hooked a leg over Eugene and hoisted herself on top of him.

He raised an eyebrow. "So early, huh?"

"It's probably eleven. Besides, you really can't hide anything from me right now. You know. Like, literally."

"You really are a siren, aren't you?"

"Yes, but they kicked me out of the sorority. Odd Siren, remember?"

"Of course."

They began maneuvering themselves together, lazy and giggling, kissing slow and deep.

Then the door opened.

"Hey, wake the fuck up you two, it's almost- oh, _shit_!"

Abraham stood in the doorway with Sasha, their faces identical masks of shock. Except that where Sasha looked properly embarrassed, Abraham was grinning like his team had just won the big game.

Mortified, Mason scrambled to hide herself and Eugene with the blanket.

" _Get the fuck out_!"

Abraham backed away, only barely containing his laughter. "Okay, okay, well... We'll just wait outside."

When he had shut the door, Mason deflated, laying her head on Eugene's chest. Eugene himself looked absolutely horrified.

"Welp," she said. "The news'll be everywhere before lunch, what do you wanna bet."

"Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm sorry."

Mason frowned. "Wait, what? Why?"

"He...I...I don't know. I should've locked the door or something-"

She broke him off with a laugh. "Oh my god, don't be _sorry_. He's the dumbass who decided not to knock."

Timidly, he blinked at her. "You're...I mean...not embarrassed?"

"Well, yeah, a little." She paused to take his face in her hands. "But not because they saw me with _you_. Eugene, I _love_ you."

His breathing stuttered a bit. "Mason. I...I confess I am so in love with you I cannot stand it."

An irresistible grin brightened her face. "You're corny is what you are." She kissed him before crawling out of bed. "Now c'mon, before that degenerate gets the video camera."

Mason dressed first and stepped out into the hall, where Abraham and Sasha waited for her. She glowered at the sight of his triumphant smirk.

"Well, well. Happy you could join us with your clothes on."

Sasha looked away, her lips twitching with amusement. Mason refused to feel flustered.

"The next time you decide to barge into my bedroom like you belong there, stop and think about the fact that I am not afraid to kill a man."

"Ooh, you _are_ warm and cuddly, ain't you? Is that the kind of sweet talk you used to seduce that poor man?"

"Not that it's any of your business, you smug ginger, but yes, I threatened his life, and yes, he crumbled at my feet like a fine feta. Almost getting murdered is his fetish."

Eugene stepped out then, still buttoning his shirt. "Goddammit, Mason, I told you not to talk about my kinks."

There remained a faint blush on his cheeks, but his tone was perfectly even. She grinned. "Sorry."

Still fighting hard to keep from smiling, Sasha said, "We're about halfway through the cleanup. One more day and the bodies should be cleared."

"Sweet. Just let us eat some breakfast- er, lunch- and we'll be right out."

As the four of them headed downstairs, Abraham fell back to elbow her. "Hey, I'm real sorry to walk in on your like that. But I'm about as happy as a flea on a grizzly that you both finally came to your senses. I thought I was gonna have to lock you two in a closet for the weekend."

"Glad your pleased, Big Red."

"Really, Mason. I'm so happy for you violas I could damn near shit a rainbow."

Mason laughed. "Thanks for that visual."

For the first time since she could remember, the day passed in a steady march. Somehow it was even better than the one before. Everyone was outside, and though they were clearing bodies they were all in high spirits. She and Eugene did nothing to hide what they were, what they had become, and by dinner everyone knew the story. They accepted their fair share of teasing, but everyone seemed immensely happy for them. The general consensus was a resounding _finally_.

Only Daryl seemed dissatisfied by the whole thing, and when he disappeared after dinner Mason set out to find him.

She found him on the lookout platform, glaring out at the descending twilight. Quietly she climbed up to join him.

Without looking at her, he said, "What are you doing here?"

She raised an eyebrow at his churlish tone. "Came to see why you've got your panties in a bunch."

He snorted. "Shouldn't you be back home with your new _man_?"

"What is your problem? Why don't you like him?"

"Because we've known for how long now that we can't trust him? But I guess that don't matter, right, so long as you can fuck him."

Mason gaped, so blindsided she couldn't think of anything to say. Daryl had started pacing back and forth, chewing lividly on his lower lip.

"Man, do you even _remember_ Beth? Do you remember what she did for you? She would've jumped off a goddamn building for you, and not two months after she dies you shack up with some loser who's fuckin' lucky he even made it this far? You tell me why I'm pissed."

Rage boiled in her stomach, and her fists clenched tight enough that her knuckles paled. But she knew Daryl well enough to see past his barbed response. That he was dodging around the real answer.

"Of course I remember Beth," she said quietly. "I remember her every day. Just like I know _you_ do. Right? Is that what this is about?"

He glared mutely at his shoes.

"Because you were in love with her?"

Still he refused to look at her, but his jaw tightened.

"It ain't got nothing to do with _her_ ," he growled, so low it was barely audible.

"Then why bring her up?" Mason demanded. "Hey. _Look_ at me."

After a moment, he did. And the look in his eyes, like even though she was standing right in front of him, she wasn't there, like he couldn't reach her. The pain, like...he was losing her.

The breath caught in her throat.

"Oh," she said, in a small voice.

Immediately his eyes flashed and he loomed over her, fuming. "Oh, what?" he spat. "What do you think you know?"

She held his gaze, too choked with sadness to say anything. Eventually he turned away from her.

"Why don't you leave me be. Shouldn't leave Eugene without his bodyguard for too long."

So she did, climbing down the ladder without another word.

NOTE: So I realize that this chapter was largely centered on Eugene and Mason's first time (yay! my broken babies are finally together), but I just wanted to say in case any of you were put off by this chapter that it's not going to get all super porn-y from here on out lol. I probably wouldn't even think of saying anything, except that I've come across so many slow-burn stories that once the characters finally have sex it's just boning 24/7. It's not that I don't enjoy said stories when they're good, but that's not what all I want this series to be about. Anyway! Sorry for babbling. Much love to you all.


	14. Over the Love

Holy crap, guys, this one turned out longer than I expected! Just a warning, this chapter goes to some really fucked up places. Like the whole thing is just all kinds of dark, so just be aware of that. Gina is a...complex character, to say the absolute least, and couple that with Negan and you've got a whole melting pot of crazy. Anyway! So the chapter title is "Over the Love" by Florence and the Machine, and oh my god, I can't believe how perfect that song is for Gina. As always, thank you all for your support and reviews, you guys are the best. Let me know what you think!

14\. Over the Love

 **Alpha**

That she never let anyone into her truth.

That was the biggest lie.

~m~

 _ **Two years earlier, by approximation of moon cycles**_

She was good at hunting, but sometimes the only way to fill your belly was to scrounge like a cur. She accepted this with the same bitterness of a child accepting a new stepparent. She was lowly, dethroned, a psychotic cast out into the wilds of a kingdom that had once belonged to her.

She wandered from town to town, skittish of people, a creature whose shadow they saw only by moonlight. She ate what she could get- leftovers from someone else's tin can, rotten fruit, raw animal flesh.

Six months after that night in the rain, the night she and Mason were separated, she tasted human blood for the first time.

She'd found a little liquor store in a strip mall, not far from an abandoned prison. Well, not abandoned. Dead ones roamed the yard in blue jumpsuits, forever incarcerated. There was no way anyone was getting inside, not least without a shit ton of effort. She decided to avoid it. Besides, a liquor store was better.

She made a beeline for the Grey Goose, stuffing a large bottle in her bag and then hiding the rest behind some cheap tequila. She planned on getting absolutely shitfaced. It had been a while, though she'd craved it every night, the fluid _forgetting_. She'd just been so intent on surviving that she couldn't afford it. Tonight, however, she was full-fed, close to a stream if she needed water, and far enough away from people that she could set up a few traps and not worry about it.

At least, that was her thinking before she heard the shriek.

The sound was both animal and human, and it brought her surging to her feet, clutching the bottle as a makeshift weapon. It hadn't come from far off. Whatever had made the sound might not have been human, but she sure whatever caused it _was_. Alive or dead, it didn't really matter, but she couldn't stay. She gathered her supplies and raced out of the store, vowing to return as soon as possible.

They were there in the middle of the road, silhouettes writhing under the full moon. The man was lank and scraggly, dressed in a patchwork of filthy clothes. The girl couldn't have been older than six and looked just as ragged. The man held her by her arms but the girl but up a hell of a fight, screeching and kicking her legs, shaking her head like a rabid dog.

Gina froze. Every instinct screamed to run, that the girl needed to learn to fend for herself. That was the world now. The weak died out.

"Come on, sweetheart," the man grunted. His voice was greasy. The voice of a cockroach. "Be a good girl now."

The girl threw her head back and spat in his face.

The man bared his teeth in a hideous grin. "Yeah, fight me, bitch. I like that."

Gina took off at a sprint. The man didn't see her coming until it was too late. She barreled into him without hesitation, knocking him on his ass, and the girl went tumbling.

"What the _fuck_?"

His hands reached for her throat, but the fury was on her. She slammed his arms away and grabbed his throat instead, squeezing tight enough that her ragged nails pierced his flesh. Panic made his eyes bulge. His fists beat at her, catching her hard in her ribs, her shoulders. It took several of these before he finally managed a swinging blow to her temple.

She felt it, but separately. Like the part of her that held pain receptors had detached from the rest of her. Mostly it was the impact that sent her flying, the sheer frenzied force behind it. She rolled across the pavement, scraping open her skin. All the while, her eyes wide, taking in the whirl of inky trees and stars paled by the moon.

She lay there for a moment, dazed. The girl crouched on all fours at the edge of the road, her hair hanging like a dark curtain in front of her face. The man lurched toward her, streamers of blood trailing down his neck.

"Get over here now, or I will cut that pretty head right off your shoulders."

The girl didn't respond, just glared at him with eyes like onyx. She didn't flinch when he stepped closer, but her gaze glinted briefly at Gina and the violence in them was clear.

When he lunged for her, she didn't flee. She jumped right into his arms, snarling and clawing at his face. But though she had successfully taken him by surprise, Gina knew all too well that he was too strong for the girl to take on for long. Already the man was seizing her wrists. A moment later, he cracked his head against hers.

Silently, Gina gathered her feet under her and ran- all fours, like a wolf- until she skidded into the man. He stumbled forward. Before he could recover, she grabbed his right leg and sank her teeth into his Achilles.

Blood filled her mouth. The man screamed and tried to rip away but she held on tight, wrapping her arms around both legs to snare him. Flesh tore with a thick ripping sound. She felt the hardness of the tendon between her teeth and chewed.

Eventually she let go, shoving him away. He fell immediately to his knees, wailing with agony. Spurts of red shot from the wound like a perverse fountain.

Gina grabbed him by his mangy hair and slammed his face into the pavement, over and over and over, until it was no longer recognizable as human. Until it looked exactly as ugly as he really was.

When she finally looked up, breathing heavily, spattered with blood, her eyes fell on the girl. Sprawled at the edge of the road, she looked unbelievably small, the fire and spite stripped from her tiny frame.

Gina almost considered leaving her there. The man was dead. The girl wasn't. She was strong enough to recover, and wild enough to keep going. That's what Gina had been forced to do.

But...she was so _small_...

And for the first time in a long time, Gina felt a kinship with the girl. An understanding.

The world had tremendous teeth. But no one ever seemed to realize that you could bite back.

She picked the girl up- god, she weighed next to nothing- and carried her into the woods.

~m~

The girl slept all night so Gina kept watch, stoking a small fire. It was really no more than embers, just enough to cast a tiny circle of light, but she couldn't risk more than that.

Slowly the forest molted out of its night shadows and into the murky gray of early dawn. Gina sniffed absently at the vodka bottle, letting it burn at the back of her throat. _Soon_ , she thought.

Out of nowhere, something rammed into her from the side, shrieking like an enraged cat.

Though the girl couldn't have weighed more than thirty pounds, she still managed to bowl Gina over. Her nails cut deep, dragging again and again down Gina's face.

"Get off me!" Gina snarled. She could have easily dispatched the girl, but something in her kept her from doing so.

The girl continued clawing at her skin. Blood welled. A bead of it dripped into Gina's eye. With a furious roar, she snatched the girl's arms and shoved her away. The girl tumbled to the ground and sat there, glaring resentfully.

Gina rubbed the blood from her face. "You little shi-"

The girl lunged again, headbutting Gina in the stomach. Little fists pummeled her. One of them caught her sharply in the liver.

Shaking with rage, Gina grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the ground. The girl kicked and struggled, tried to pry Gina's hand away. And all the while, the malice never left her eyes.

"Listen up, you runty bitch. Don't piss me off and I won't kill you."

The girl jerked, trying to sink her teeth into one of her fingers.

"Hey!"

Gina flattened the girl into the leaf litter, only barely suppressing the urge to throttle her. She leaned down until they were nose to nose.

" _I am alpha here_!"

The girl fell still. Her unnerving, sooty eyes seared through Gina's, but she said nothing. And there, there was that understanding again, that primal darkness like an echoing cave.

She waited until she was sure the girl wouldn't launch another attack and then released her. The girl scrambled into a crouch, watching without blinking as Gina returned to the fire. There was a long silence, broken only by the snap of the fire.

"You got a name?" Gina finally said.

The girl remained silent. Gina began to wonder if she was mute.

"I'm tempted just to call you Little Shit. Names are bullshit unless they represent you."

She thought for a moment and then smiled a bit.

"I'm gonna call you Feral. You like it? Don't say anything if you think it's a good name."

Of course Feral said nothing. Gina sat back, looking pleased with herself.

"My name's Gina, but I fucking hate that name. It's short for Regina but I hate that even more. It was my mom's name. Dumb floozy bitch... It fit _her_ though. I mean, when you picture some drunk, white suburban mom siphoning booze at ten in the morning, don't you automatically think some name like Karen or Debbie? Ugh. _Regina._ "

She paused, raising an eyebrow at the bottle in her hand.

"Guess I couldn't help inheriting some things from her though, eh?"

God, she wanted a drink.

"I did everything I could to live down that name. My full name was Regina Margaret Stanton the Third. Fucking puke, right? And like...okay, so my mom made my dad dye his hair because it was 'too ginger'. Like, what the fuck? I never understood as a kid why she had everyone convinced I was blonde, too. I just thought it was one long game of make believe or some shit. When I got a little older, though, I figured it out and started refusing. Left my hair as it was like a big, frizzy red _fuck you_. God, she hated me for that.

"That was part of why I loved Mason so much. She saw me as I was. She never expected anything more or less."

Briefly, very briefly, a real smile touched her face.

"Mother Dearest, of course, loathed Mason, which was another reason I loved her. It was partly because Mason came from poverty, but it was also because she was so much _better_ than my mom. Like she actually gave a shit about things that mattered, and couldn't have cared less about our _great Stanton legacy_. You know, she cried when my chinchilla died? _I_ didn't even cry. She just _cared_. I didn't think people really did that."

She laughed a little, a short, bitter sound. "That sounds really pathetic, doesn't it? 'Oh, boohoo, all of the people I ever interacted with for thirteen years were vain elitists.' Could've been worse. The first person who ever kissed me was this white supremacist asshole twice my age. He was twenty-two and I was eleven but yeah, it totally could have been worse. Mom got me drunk at a party that same year so I would _flirt_ more, so all the men could see me and think, 'What a fine specimen, look at her lineage, I'll have to breed her with my boy.' But yeah it could've been worse. She could've just slapped some makeup on me and put me out on the street corner. It could've been worse. _I should consider myself lucky_!"

She didn't realize how hysterical she'd gotten until she was screaming. She sat hugging her arms over her chest, clawing notches into her skin, while the echo of her voice rolled away through the trees. Feral watched her without speaking, wary and wild. Though she'd already told herself not to, Gina opened the bottle of Grey Goose and drank deep. It seared her throat like acid. She wished it would eat her alive.

After several more sips, she shook her head. "Why the fuck am I even saying this shit? You're a goddamn kid. Besides, it doesn't matter. This is a new world, right? New life."

~m~

They stuck around the liquor store for a few weeks, Gina leading the way from campsite to campsite in a drunken stupor and Feral trailing after her. Gina was willing to babble about anything under the sun, so long as it didn't matter, and Feral was willing to listen, so long as she didn't have to reply.

There was nothing cuddly about the girl, but Gina liked that. She didn't think she could stand the little brat if she were like most kids. Fucking clingers, the lot of them.

Inevitably the night came when she was more hungover than drunk. She made a half-assed fire and collapsed next to it. Her emotions roiled with her stomach.

"God fucking dammit, why do I do this shit?" she groaned.

Feral regarded her curiously, using a stick to roll an ember back and forth along the ground.

"You'd think I'd try to stay away from booze because of my mother and all that... But fuck me, alcoholism runs in my family. You know, I'm the one that started Mason drinking. She'd never tasted liquor until I came around. Her mom didn't keep it in the house, something about her dad...? I don't know. I'm fuzzy on the details. Mason never really liked to talk about him anyway.

"Me and her met in ninth grade after I successfully got myself kicked out of private school. She was so awkward and timid. Always kept to her books and her goddamn iPod. But I corrupted her."

She said this last with a triumphant grin. Her teeth glinted wolfishly.

"We snuck out a lot. The first night we ever did I brought a bottle of whiskey and by morning she was puking in the gutter. I taught her how to stand up for herself, how to fight. She always had that spark in her but she kept it muzzled. She was tormented by this...insecurity. Like she deserved the abuse."

 _Please, Gina. I'm sorry. I can do better._

Gina shut her eyes, digging her nails into the skin of her thigh. "Her dad left when she was young, I know that. Apparently he didn't want a daughter. Something like that, I don't know. So I think that fucked her up quite a bit. She didn't think she was good enough for anyone."

 _You're all I have and I can't even rely on you._

She barked out a laugh. "I should've gone into psychology. I wanted to, isn't that funny?"

But not to help people. No, it was easier manipulating them.

"I wouldn't have made a good therapist, though. People's problems, their weaknesses...they just disgust me. It pisses me off just thinking about it, even my own. Get over it or kill yourself, you know?"

 _You should do it, Mason. You deserve it._

"Anyway... The first time Mason and I fucked- oh, excuse me. _Made love_. That's what she called it. The first time we made love, we did it in the woods by this creek, and when we walked home that night we kept getting all these weird looks because we were covered in mud and sand and trash. But Mason didn't care. She just laughed and held my hand and..."

She paused, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat.

 _I love you, too, Mason... You're the only one who can hurt me._

"But none of that shit matters now," she growled. "We...Mason's not around anymore. I don't know what the fuck happened to her but that doesn't matter either. Survive or don't, right? If she couldn't make it, that's her problem. Hey, you know what, kid, I really need some sleep. Kick me if there's an ambush or, like, a bigfoot or something."

Feral didn't say anything but she perked up, eyes darting about as Gina curled up next to the fire. The world spun in nauseating circles but sleep came anyway.

~m~

 _Gina slams the door behind her and shoves Mason onto the bed. Mason blinks at her. Desperation. Despair. Her expression makes Gina horny but she refuses to fuck. There is too much anger in her, too much hatred._

 _"Please don't be mad at me, Gina," she pleads. Her words are slurred. Drunk._

 _Gina holds the bottle out to Mason, commanding her to drink with her eyes. Mason obeys, all her movements jagged, sloppy._

 _"I told you to be there," Gina growls. "I told you I needed you."_

 _The party had been full of Mommy's old college friends, sorority pledges, Ivy League douchebags. Without Mason there as a buffer, as a middle finger to the boys who only wanted her because she came from money, she'd nearly gone apeshit. She'd nearly burned the goddamn place down._

 _"I know, I'm sorry. But my mom...she...my dad I guess showed up at her work today and, like...when she came home she was literally in tears and I had to stay. I've never seen her like that, Gina."_

 _Fury boils in Gina's stomach. She wants to slap the pathetic look right off Mason's face, but she doesn't. Because manipulation is a subtle art._

 _So instead she sprawls next to Mason, arranging her expression into one of hurt. "I_ needed _you, Mason. You're my girlfriend."_

 _Tears well in Mason's eyes. "Please, Gina. I'm sorry. I can do better."_

 _"You're all I have and I can't even rely on you."_

 _"No, you can. You can. Please."_

 _Gina blinks wide, anguished eyes. "How do I know that? Mason, do you know why my mom wanted me at this party? To_ use _me. As_ bait _. You're the only real person I have, but..."_

 _Mason grabs Gina's hand. In her other hand she grips the liquor bottle, tight enough that the tendon in her wrist stands out._

 _"Gina, I am so, so sorry. I really didn't mean to leave you. I love you so much."_

 _Gina tips the bottle toward Mason's mouth until she drinks. She lets a few well-timed tears trickle down her cheeks, and she hates each one but the pain on Mason's face is worth it._

 _"I love you, too, Mason. That's why I'm so hurt right now. You're the only one who can hurt me."_

 _She watches Mason drink until she is no longer coherent, watches the anxiety, the darkness, build in her like storm clouds._

 _It is therapeutic to spread such pain. A release from her own darkness._

 _Gina drinks, too, until the room whirls. She is so powerful, so triumphant._

 _At some point, she does not remember when or how, she ends up with a knife from the kitchen. Mason is slurring tearfully that all she ever brings is pain. Her father left her mother because she was born. Her mother is alone because of her._

 _Gina hands her the knife._

 _"You should do it, Mason. You deserve it."_

 _The cut on her thigh is the longest. It will scar the deepest._

 _Afterward, Gina cups Mason's glistening face and smiles. "You do deserve it. But you can be better. I can make you better."_

~m~

Gina shuddered out of sleep with a strangled sob. She clutched at her arms, dragged her nails down her skin until she was sure was awake, sure she was real.

It was still dark. The fire was down to embers, but they shed enough light to contour Feral's face in moody red. The girl stared warily as Gina struggled to catch her breath.

Some of the details had been skewered clumsily together, dream-jarring, but they hadn't been a lie. She remembered that night. She really had guilted Mason into getting shitfaced. Finessed her into self-harm. Because she could. Because she was full of pain, because that was _all_ she was, at her most basic, and she hated it all, she hated everything...

"Survive or don't," she whispered to herself, because there was nothing else. Nothing else to consume now except the most primal ammunition.

"Alpha."

At first, she didn't register that the girl had spoken. She was just so used to her _not_ speaking that at first she assumed it was a voice in her head.

But Feral stared her down with a look that was half-challenge, half-reverence.

"What?" Gina croaked.

Feral pointed at her and repeated, "Alpha."

 _I am alpha here._

Slowly, the hysteria subsided. She blinked down at her arms, where she'd drawn her own blood.

She thought of the cut on Mason's leg and curled her lip in disgust.

"That's right, kid," she said. "I am Alpha."

~m~

For months, they traveled in circles around the place where they'd met, returning occasionally to the liquor store at Gina's insistence. Feral remained almost entirely mute, choosing to speak only when a real need arose. But Gina didn't give a shit. The girl was good company, though she never lost her cool vigilance, nor the sudden, savage bursts that would suddenly take hold of her.

The day they came back around the prison was the day Gina realized it had been a year and a half. A year and a half since that night in the rain, her brutal rebirth. She was subdued all day, enough that Feral expressed concern in the only way she knew how- by catching a rabbit with her bare hands and offering the bleeding flesh as a gift.

"Thanks, kid, but I think today I'll just stick to casual starvation," she said.

Feral eyed her curiously for a moment, but when Gina made no move to take the rabbit she tucked into it herself. She was a bloody mess by the time they reached the prison fence.

Gina paused, struck by the sight of the empty yard. Well, not empty. There were cars, and a gate made from some kind of salvaged metal, and a garden.

A _garden_.

There were _people_ there.

She leaned forward breathlessly, looping her fingers through the chain link. Someone had actually managed to clear the cold bodies. It must have been a big operation. They must have been absolute _warriors_.

Feral grasped the fence, too, but her eyes were on Gina, scrutinizing the play of emotions on her face.

"I just wanna see who's in there," Gina said. "To see if we need to scram."

Or to see what she would have to do to take what they had.

They lurked outside for hours, examining the fence for weaknesses, keeping to the trees so no one could spot them. She watched a young Asian guy trade places with a short-haired woman in one of the watchtowers. She watched a fierce-looking woman with dreads ride out on a horse, a sword strapped to her back. She watched a white-haired man limp out to the garden, trailed by a flint-eyed man and a boy who resembled him too closely to be anything other than his son. Others worked in the courtyard, building things, cooking things.

 _Living._

A surge of jealousy overwhelmed her. Why should these people, most of which did not look very impressive at all, get to exist in such an ideal place?

As she was thinking this, a figure stepped out of the prison. And her heart stopped.

No.

It wasn't her. It wasn't.

Except it was.

"Mason..." she breathed.

She watched as Mason crossed the prison yard, a fire poker strapped to her back. _Gina's_ fire poker. She made her way over to a pretty blonde girl that Gina had dismissed earlier as walker chow. The smile on her face seared a hole through Gina's chest.

She watched, stricken, burning, as Mason wrapped her arms around the blonde girl and kissed her.

A moment later she was running, racing through the trees to put as much distance as she could between herself and that prison. She was only distantly aware that Feral kept up surprisingly well, bounding, as she sometimes did, on all fours.

When she finally collapsed, she could barely feel her own body. It wasn't numbness that had a hold of her, it was agony. It was a cataclysm upending her atoms.

"She's alive," she gasped.

She was alive.

 _Living._

Planting gardens.

Kissing other girls.

Like Gina had never existed.

The pain cut rivers through her, but as she crouched there, shuddering, it began to solidify into something else. Something beyond rage. Something like vengeance, but with sharper teeth.

"That _bitch_ ," she hissed.

She would make her pay. She would make her _suffer_. She would carve her into new shapes until she knew, until she truly _understood,_ what it was to bleed.

~m~

Weeks turned into months while they watched the prison, kept tabs on everyone there, learned all they could. There were somewhere around thirty people in their group, and some of them were indeed fighters but most of them, Gina thought, had only made it this far through luck.

She was constantly scheming, trying to think of ways to take the prison, to kill Mason's people and leave her to rot. But the simple fact of the matter- a fact that she only grudgingly conceded- was that she was just one person. Feral was Feral, and she was as angry at the world as Gina was herself, but she was a child. Short of a miracle, there was no way they were getting in that prison without help.

The night she accepted this was the same night she met Beta, and afterward she could not help but believe that by some divine right, some cosmic justice, she would bring those people to their knees.

~m~

"What's your name?"

"My given name was Owen. But now I think it's time for a different title."

"That's funny. I was thinking the same."

A flash of movement and there she was with a shard of glass at his throat.

"I really don't have any reason _not_ to scrape the skin from your bones. Maybe you should get to work convincing me otherwise."

"Because this skin hides what I truly am. It allows me to move through a world that is unprepared for me."

"And what are you, truly?"

"An apex predator."

Her eyes glinted, moonlight off the edge of a knife.

"Me, too."

~m~

He hadn't come to Georgia alone but those that had accompanied him were already dead. Three men and two women, all too weak to survive.

"But there are more of us," he told her. "Back home, in Virginia."

"So why come here?"

"To take things," he answered simply. "We move around a lot, but we always come home. In the end."

And that was that. A day-long campaign and she would have her means to revenge.

Scoring the gasoline for the journey was surprisingly easy- Owen's expertise in the matter was impeccably ruthless- and in no time they were on the road. Feral entertained herself in the backseat, tearing holes in the upholstery with the pocketknife Gina had given her. Gina herself sat up front with Owen, fishing casually for hints of who he'd been before. But he was as guarded as she was, and they danced around their answers without ever really learning anything.

Halfway there, he heard Feral call her Alpha and immediately adopted it as her new title. And she felt it settle into place then, this new self that she'd become.

~m~

The Wolves, as she took to calling them, were easy enough to convince. A place with walls, food, people to brutalize. It was seduction. The only rub, she explained, was that the prison pack had firepower, a lot of it from what she could tell.

"We might be able to take them if this were the only issue, but with their walls and precautionary measures I think it would be smarter to go in with our own munitions," she said.

They all looked to Owen- Beta, as she thought of him- for confirmation. This didn't concern her. Manipulation was her art form. It seemed only fitting that she accept a role as chief in the shadows, the clandestine puppet master.

"We will take a few days to scout out everything we need," he said, and a whisper of anticipation rippled through the pack. Not all of them would survive, she knew, but the payout would outweigh the loss.

She and Feral split from the pack soon after, eager to get started.

"We're looking for guns," Gina told her. "If you see anyone with a gun, don't attack. Find me first. I don't have the time to pick shrapnel out of your dumb ass."

Feral loped away with a resentful sniff.

Not thirty minutes later, she heard the screech. Gina darted for the sound, drawing a machete from her belt.

She found Feral hanging upside down from a tree, a bright yellow rope noosed around her ankle. The girl thrashed and swiped at the trap, screaming her incoherent fury.

"Hey!" Gina barked, rushing forward to clap a hand over Feral's mouth. "Shut the fuck up."

The girl bit her palm.

Gina snarled and yanked her hand away. "I should let you hang, you little shit."

But she swung her machete anyway, snapping the rope from the branch it was tied to. Feral tumbled to the ground, still twitching with agitation.

"What the fuck is this shit?"

Gina and Feral whipped around as a man loomed out of the trees. Immediately she raised her weapon.

"I wouldn't do that, ginger snap."

The voice came from behind her, a lanky man with a dark mustache and a handgun aimed at her forehead. There were others, too, she realized, surrounding them. Fifteen or more, it looked like. She gritted her teeth. Little bitch had drawn her right into a trap.

The man who had spoken first strolled toward her. His face was quirked in a smile that made her think he never felt anything but confident. Over one shoulder was draped a baseball bat, one wrapped in barbed wire. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

"Well, lookit what sweet lady Fate has set on our plate," he said. "Cherry cordial and a little bite of whiskey. I'll be god-fucking-damned."

He stopped less than a foot from Gina, who refused to move or show any sign of weakness. Feral lurked at her side, growling quietly.

"And who might you be, Raggedy Ann?" he asked. His voice was dark and smoky, and in it she heard all the promise of violence.

She fixed her jaw, glaring directly into his eyes.

He chuckled. "Someone's forgotten how common decency works. Well, my name's Negan. And you are...?"

Still she remained steadfastly silent.

"See, I don't think you realize how disrespectful you seem right now, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt." He leaned closer, and the smell of cologne startled her. Who the fuck wore cologne these days? "But I do not tolerate disrespect. It's one of my pet peeves. Now. You tell me your name, or Lucille here will be making introductions with this demon spawn."

He lowered the bat until he could touch it to Feral's cheek. Gina stiffened.

"Alpha," she growled.

"I'm sorry, _Alpha_? You're yanking my chain, matchstick."

"You asked and I told you. My parents did a lot of drugs. Think they were loaded when they named me."

"You don't say."

His eyes glittered. It was obvious he didn't believe her, but he moved the bat from Feral's face.

"Well, ain't that just a kick in the nutsack," he said. "How about your friend here? Her parents loaded, too?"

"I don't know what her real name is, she never told me. I call her Feral."

"With jacked up names like that, you two must make quite a pair."

He examined them for a moment, and something in his face made Gina want to run. All the men around them- and they were all men, she realized with cold dread- watched with dead expressions.

"Come back to our not-so-humble abode," Negan said. "Let's see what kind of pair you really are."

"Thank you, Negan," Gina said coolly. "But we have other places-"

"I'm sorry. I guess I should have made myself clearer." He tossed the bat in his hand, adept and casual. "Come with us, or I will fucking kill you."

Her blood burned. She wanted so badly to cut the prick's face open, to carve him like a goddamn jack-o-lantern, but one glance at Feral and she knew she couldn't.

 _I never should have taken you with me,_ she thought. _I should've left you in Georgia._

"Well I'm glad you cleared that up," she said. "Under the circumstances, I would be _delighted_ to see where it is you fine gentlemen call home."

Negan grinned. "'Atta girl."

~m~

The week she spent at the Saviors' compound was illuminating to say the least. It wasn't because they had kitchens brimming with food, or sheds bristling with weaponry. It wasn't that there were so many of them, men and women, all of them well-fed and capable.

It was the _power_. Negan wasn't leading a group, he was fostering an empire. There were _prisoners_. There were so many guns it made her dizzy.

And it was the guns that convinced her to play the game. To befriend him as a fellow apex predator.

By the end of the week, they'd hammered out the details of their agreement.

In exchange for weapons with which to take down the prison, she would return to act as a liquidator until he felt she paid off her debt.

"Feral will stay here with me, as insurance," he'd added. "I have plenty of guns. What I'm loaning you isn't even a drop in the bucket. It's the _principle_ of the matter, you dig it? So if you decide you want to welsh on our deal, it really won't be me who loses anything. But I will bash her skull in like your granny's finest china."

It killed her that this bothered her. She never should've let herself get attached.

 _You're not,_ she thought. _It's the_ principle _of the matter._

She was a fine liar, just not to herself.

~m~

The firefight was impressive. The prison pack put up a good fight, she had to give them that, but Eye Patch Dude had too much artillery. _Heavy_ artillery. As in a fucking tank. She had no idea who he was or what his beef had been with Mason's people, but it must've been good.

The Wolves were upset by the loss of the prison, but with the fences down there was nothing they could do. Drawn by the din of battle, the dead invaded quickly, scattering the survivors.

Mason got out, with that blonde bitch and the guy with the crossbow. Gina followed them for three days until they were separated by a herd of walkers.

She watched from the shelter of the forest as Mason returned, haggard and broken, to the prison yard. Even from a distance, her agony was obvious. Luminous.

 _Good._

But despite this victory, there were still so many fine lines to tread.

That night, Beta convinced a small group of Wolves to stay behind with him and Gina while the others returned home. They left the guns behind, a contingency that none of them would ever realize was Gina's. Beta was the only one who knew, of her time spent with Negan and the deal she'd scratched out with him.

"I want what he has," she told him. "If you'd seen it, you would, too. We can dismantle his empire when the time is right, but until then the others can't know."

Frustrated by the loss of the prison, it was too easy to picture them jumping in half-cocked, hungry for blood they'd been delayed in spilling. Without the proper planning, Gina knew exactly how it would end.

Luckily Beta wasn't an idiot. He knew how to play the game.

They allowed themselves enough time to keep tabs on the survivors, to watch in disbelief as they reunited, as if some hand of fate were guiding them back together. They watched the group scramble to rescue Mason's girl from the hospital in Atlanta.

They were there when the archer carried her bleeding body out. They were there to watch them bury her.

Only that night did they call an end to it. Though Gina wished to stay, to bear witness to the utter grief that Mason had become, she knew she had to return to Negan.

When they were far enough away from the prison pack that the sound wouldn't reach them, they shot each of the other Wolves in the head.

She left it up to Beta to decide what to tell the pack when they returned to Virginia. He certainly couldn't tell them the truth, the real reason he would be returning alone and weaponless.

Among other things, Negan would want his guns back.

~m~

"That is fucking hilarious."

Gina glared across the desk at Negan. "Side-splitting."

"Oh, lose the sour mug, cherry bomb. Sounds like these people drew the short dick."

"Don't you mean stick?"

"I think dick is probably worse. Anyway, isn't that what you wanted?"

"Dick? Sorry. Carpet-muncher."

Negan grinned. "I'm gonna need those guns back by the way."

"And I'm gonna need my demon back," Gina replied. "Your guns are out in the trunk of my car. Where's Feral?"

His eyes glittered. "Oh, you are gonna _love this_. Feral! Why don't you come out, princess."

A door behind him opened, and out stepped Feral. The cloud of filth that usually enveloped her was gone. She was dressed all in black- her dress, her boots, her scarf, her little leather jacket. Her wild hair had been tamed into a ponytail. She looked like a miniature assassin.

"You gave her a makeover?" Gina said flatly.

"I did more than that. I offered her a job."

"What the fuck kind of job could you offer a six year old?"

"Seven."

Gina glanced sharply at Feral, whose face was dark with dislike.

"Birthday was last month."

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say anything, kid? Woulda stuck a couple candles in some raw squirrel flesh."

"I don't think you recognize, copper head, what a gold mine this kid is," Negan said. "This girl is _ruthless_."

Something about his voice set her on edge. She narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah. But she's a _kid_."

"Exactly."

~m~

From the trees, Feral looked exactly the part she was cast to play. She was artfully belied for the role- ragged pink dress, bare feet, smudged with blood they'd robbed from a cold body. Crouched in the middle of the road, she almost had Gina convinced that she was as helpless as she appeared.

They didn't have to wait long. Negan had said this was a place his mark frequented often, and indeed twenty minutes after arriving they saw the man coming down the highway.

Feral started crying, pathetic little whimpers that sent an unexpected pang through Gina's chest.

The man paused when he spotted the girl. He drew his gun and approached cautiously, but when Feral turned her tear-stained face to him he stopped again.

"Hey, there," he said.

Feral flinched like she meant to flee.

"No, no, it's okay," he said gently. "I don't wanna hurt you. It's okay."

Slowly he advanced. After a moment, Feral sniffled pitifully and held her arms out to him.

Immediately he hung the strap of his gun over one shoulder and swept her into his arms. "It's okay, honey, it's okay."

Soothingly he stroked her hair. Feral played him like a fiddle a few seconds more, burying her face in his chest.

Gina saw the knife flash as Feral swung it around and drove it deep into the man's back. The hit was wickedly precise, snapping the gun strap and allowing the weapon to clatter to the ground. The man cried out and dropped Feral. She landed on all fours, swiped the gun and fired a few clumsy shots into his legs.

The kickback was enough to send her to her ass but the man fell, too, clutching at his bleeding legs. Negan emerged from their hiding place, chuckling. Numbly Gina followed.

"Thank you, Feral," he said, taking the gun from her. Reverently she blinked up at him and Gina flinched, stung.

The man trembled as Negan approached, fear and pain and anger muddying his expression.

"You...you son of a bitch-"

Negan held up a quelling finger. "Go ahead and cry if you want, but don't shit your shorts. I want them, and when I'm done with you, you're going to hand them over. Nicely. With an apology for the name-calling."

He slammed the butt of the gun into the man's temple. Then he leaned back in this way he had, like he thought something was particularly funny.

"You see it now, don't you, Red? People will give up anything for a kid in need, including their better judgment. Now help me get this pussy in the car."

~m~

She tried to make a case for Feral's safety. Putting her out as bait for strangers was as bad as feeding her to the cold bodies. But Negan had belittled her concern.

"Relax your tits, cinnamon. Someone'll be right there with her the whole time. I ain't letting anything bad happen to my cold-blooded princess."

And so bitterly it dawned on her that she was trapped. Even without needing to pay off the guns, he still had her. Feral was the only thing she felt attached to in the world anymore, the only living, breathing thing that had any meaning.

She was careful to keep the Wolves and the Saviors separate. She lied to Negan about how many there were because the less he knew, the better. It didn't stop her from enlisting their help in whatever errands he had her running that day.

Weeks passed in this manner, her resentment mounting. Each day, Feral grew more and more attached to Negan, following him around like a puppy in that goddamn all-black outfit. By the third week, Gina could no longer reach her.

The night Beta informed her of Alexandria, she took out her emotions on an unfortunate woman who happened to cross her path, severing each limb before finally killing her.

Then one day, Negan's wing man, Simon, invited her on a run. She might not have agreed except that it was another one of Feral's gigs, and she couldn't help hoping that she might be able to sway the girl back to her side.

The mission was standard. Deck Feral out in tattered clothes, make her look as frightened and helpless as possible, and wait for the fish to bite. They made their play in the woods that day, not far from a small camp that Simon claimed their targets inhabited.

It took about an hour of waiting before anyone wandered over, a teenage girl with a scar across her face.

She halted when Feral started crying. There was something blank about her expression, something carefully composed...

It was the face of a liar, Gina realized.

In the same moment, something cold pressed against the back of her neck.

"On your knees, bitch."

Suddenly Scar-face wasn't alone. Two men rushed out of the trees to flank her, one of them seizing Feral by the arm. Immediately she started struggling, whipping around to sink her teeth into the man's hand, but the other man was there to restrain her.

 _A trap,_ she thought dizzily. The people had known they were coming and had played them perfectly. A man held a gun to her head and another held a gun to Simon's, and they had Feral, they had Feral just like she'd goddamn predicted...

"I said _on your knees_."

Burning with rage, she obeyed.

Suddenly a flash caught her eye.

Feral had managed to rip her arms free and in her hand was the knife, the pocketknife from Gina. Quick as lightning, the girl slashed Scar-face's throat.

" _NO_!"

The man who screamed kicked Feral in the stomach, and while she lay curled in pain snatched the knife from her.

"You little _bitch_!"

The other man lifted her by her arms. The man with the knife grabbed her by the hair, exposing her throat.

She started struggling then, the whites of her eyes like bones against the grime.

She stretched her arms desperately in Gina's direction and Gina jerked forward with the same anguish.

" _Gina_!"

But the wail cut off with a gurgle, and suddenly there was red weeping from Feral's neck, and suddenly red was all Gina could see.

A scream ripped from her chest, but there was nothing human about it. She whipped her head back into the groin of the man behind her and the gun went off, catching the murderer in the shoulder. She was distantly aware that Simon had taken his opportunity to break free as well but it didn't matter.

Feral was gone.

And the only thing left to tether her to the Earth was vengeance.

The world blurred. Later she would remember only vague impressions of breaking bones, of frothing at the mouth, of blood filling the air like mist. In that moment, one thought drowned out the rest, dominated it all.

 _I am Alpha._

 _I am Alpha._

 _I am Alpha._

She was nothing more, and nothing less.

~m~

Now here she sat, at the edge of the grave where Feral had given her flesh to the soil.

She had a new face. The Chemist- Eugene- had burned her old one.

Negan hadn't seen her in many passes of the moon, something like five months. He probably thought her dead. That was good.

After Feral, she had returned to him, cradling the girl's tiny body to her chest.

She had knelt there at his feet, dripping red from head to toe, and faked her sincerity flawlessly when she told him that she wanted to go on serving him.

"I have nothing left," she'd said.

And he'd replied, "No. There is always more."

There was. She'd known it then but she hadn't said so.

Never again would she give him a piece of her. Never again would she give a piece of herself to anyone. Gina was dead. She had either been a lie or the truth, but it no longer mattered.

She was Alpha now. She was fire, moonlight, wolf's teeth.

Soon, she knew, the Alexandrians would cross paths with the Saviors. They were strong enough now that they probably thought they could put up a fight.

She supposed she was counting on that.

NOTE: Okay, so, this chapter I think was a bit different from previous chapters in that there was an element of kind of gritty intrigue to it (or something lol). Hopefully it wasn't too much, there was just so much I needed to fit in that I felt so scattered writing it. Anyway, next chapter I will return to our family in Alexandria, and it will likely be a lot lighter to counterbalance this grim fuckery lol. Until then, much love.


	15. Steve McQueen

Hello, lovelies! A little later than planned, but here's the next chapter! This is actually where the story starts to deviate a bit from the show. The timing, for instance, is different: here it's been five months since the battle for Alexandria, while in the show it's only one. Anyway, the chapter title is Steve McQueen by M83, who are by and far one of the best musical artists around, and if you listen to them then you know what I'm talking about (looking at you, DampishPoet!) Also, there is a poem used in here ("I Am Alone in the World, and Yet Not Alone Enough") written by the amazing Rainer Maria Rilke. Unfortunately I am not sure who did this particular translation (but it sure wasn't me lol) As always, many thanks for your reviews and support, and let me know what you think!

15\. Steve McQueen

The walkers were advancing, three of them in a sinister line. Mason backed up, right hand at the knife on her belt, the left up in the air, palm out. _Wait._

Her steps were careful, avoiding anything that could trip her up, but the walkers were closing in. They were five feet away, four, three...

Abruptly she clenched her left hand into a fist. _Green light_.

Half a second later, an arrow lodged itself through the back of the middle walker's skull.

She took her cue to duck down, knife drawn, as a second arrow impaled the second walker's hamstring. A third arrow was quick to follow, this one driving straight through the third walker's throat. Mason dispatched them both quickly, then stood up when a voice called to her through the trees.

"Think you could cut it any closer there, buttercup?"

She smiled as Eugene appeared, scrutinizing his bow. His hair was tied back in a little ponytail, his face smudged with dirt and walker blood. It made the scar on his cheek stand out.

"You were the one who said you wanted to practice with distance," she replied.

"Yes, practice with distance, not practice with you nearly getting your face eaten."

"If she ain't actin' like a dumbass then you got no stakes," Daryl said, stepping from his watch place in the foliage. Mason held each walker for him to examine, and after a moment he huffed.

"What, was I off?" Eugene asked.

"Nah, you got every one."

"Bulls-eyes, all of 'em," Mason said, beaming.

She and Daryl had caught the walkers earlier that morning. They hadn't told Eugene where they'd painted the little red targets. Spotting them was part of the game.

Daryl shook his head. "Fuckin' sniper."

Eugene grinned proudly.

Five months since the battle for Alexandria, and he had worked hard every day since then. Shooting lessons with Daryl and Sasha, fighting lessons with Mason and Abraham, and all manner of medical training he could receive when Denise wasn't busy.

It hadn't taken long for everyone to start calling him Deadeye. While clumsy at first, especially with the bow, he'd improved tremendously once he learned to quell his nerves. He was patient and precise, a killer combination he'd learned to integrate into his sparring sessions. It was as difficult now to take him down in a fist fight as it had once been to encourage him to fight at all.

"We may as well call it a day," Daryl went on. "Ain't much more I can teach you now but trick shots."

"And I hope you know I will be asking for those as well, Mr. Dixon. I want everyone to know that I am a cool dude, and also that I am quite capable of murdering them in stylistic fashion."

Daryl's lips twitched. "Yeah, alright. Know what's really cool though? Lunch."

"I cannot argue that."

Mason watched their exchange with guarded bemusement. It hadn't been so long ago that Daryl had been unwilling to give Eugene the time of day- partly because he had insisted Eugene couldn't be trusted, but also because he had feelings for Mason. She hadn't figured this out herself until she and Eugene had become a couple. Daryl had been impossible for about a week, and then suddenly it was like he'd flipped a switch. He started talking to her again. He taught Eugene to shoot like there'd never been an issue.

Neither she nor Daryl had mentioned anything since that night on the watch platform. She figured it was best if they just pretend that nothing had ever happened, but sometimes it still caught her off guard. Eugene had told her that Daryl reminded him a bit of his father, and that he thought of him now as the brother he'd never had, but how they'd gotten to that point remained a mystery.

On the way home they discussed their silent signals, a code of hand gestures the three of them used when hunting. Mason and Daryl had already had a few basic ones in their arsenal, but with Eugene's additions it had practically become sign language.

"Why the hell would we need one for bomb?" Daryl demanded.

Eugene's eyes gleamed in this way he had only recently adopted- a look of detached cunning that Mason couldn't decide scared or exhilarated her.

"Because I am a chemist, and because it is pragmatic in the critical climate of the times to prepare for any eventuality."

Mason and Daryl exchanged a mystified glance but Eugene apparently didn't feel the need to explain further.

Ever since the Wolves and the battle with the walkers, Eugene sometimes got these flashes of tactical shrewdness. Like a shadow version of himself, mercy and emotion were stripped from him to leave his intelligence unencumbered. And it wasn't as though this scared Mason for herself or her family. It was only when she imagined herself on the other side, as a threat, that this cold-blooded calculation made her shiver.

Abraham on gate duty when they returned. He grinned, fingering the little red pendant around his neck.

"It's the terrible trio!"

Mason narrowed her eyes. "You mean terrible as in 'instilling terror', right?"

"Words are just an illusion, doll. They only have meaning because we say they do."

"You need to stop hanging out with Eugene."

"Well, that's gonna be pretty difficult, seeing as I want you both for a run."

"Oh, yeah? Well, _that's_ gonna be pretty difficult, seeing as I can't stand you."

They grinned at each other, but Mason noticed that behind his normal cocky expression there was disquiet. She peered at him curiously but didn't draw attention to it.

"Hey. Stop flirting with him." Eugene stepped between them, and his face was so dramatically stern she couldn't help giggling. "He's _mine_ , girlfriend, paws off."

Daryl snorted. "I'll leave ya'll to your weird love triangle."

"Oh, don't you worry, Mr. Dixon, I will always be willing to make room in my heart for the mighty Squirrel-bane."

 **Eugene**

 _He spotted the shadow on his way to the lookout platform. Mason was the night watch, and the house had seemed so big and empty without her that he'd decided to join her. But when he saw Daryl, shimmying up the side of the wall, he paused._

 _It had been a week since Eugene and Mason made their relationship official, and Daryl had been pissy ever since. Of course Eugene knew why. He wasn't oblivious. Mason had asked him to keep his distance until Daryl cooled off, but seeing him climb over the wall Eugene knew he had to follow._

 _It was surprisingly easy to pick up his trail. Daryl wasn't taking any pains to hide his passage through the woods, and from the way his steps staggered Eugene thought maybe he was drunk._

 _Then the steps fell silent. Eugene slowed, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He'd brought a flashlight but he didn't want to use it, so the only light came from the intermittent wink of the moon through clouds._

 _He rounded a tree, and stopped just short of Daryl's bow._

 _"Shit-"_

 _"Why the fuck you followin' me?"_

 _The dislike in Daryl's voice was acidic. His eyes glinted in a brief flash of moonlight._

 _Eugene swallowed. "Came to see what could have lured you out here that you would need to sneak over the wall."_

 _"Nothin' I need to discuss with you."_

 _"You're drunk."_

 _Daryl lowered the crossbow with a snort. "That's a fine observation there, doc. You get your PhD in making...in making no shit statements?"_

 _Really drunk. Eugene frowned. "You shouldn't be out here alone."_

 _"You ain't my babysitter. Why don't you run on home to Mason?"_ _He said her name brokenly. Like it had to be dragged from some ruined part of him._

 _"Mason wouldn't want you out here alone either," Eugene said._

 _Daryl flinched. Eugene opened his mouth to apologize, but Daryl shoved him roughly against a tree before he could speak._

 _"Does it look like I give a shit? She ain't my girl. She's got no right to worry about me. Now you best leave me be because there's a part of me that wants to bury you six feet deep and right now it's winnin'."_

 _He was afraid of the threat in Daryl's expression- he had no doubt he could destroy him if he wanted- but instead of backing down, Eugene shook his head._

 _"I don't understand how you can say that. Mason loves you. You're one of the most important people to her and I can attest that she would be supremely pissed if you let yourself get hurt out here."_

 _"What don't you understand about_ leave me be _?"_

 _He drew back to swing at him, but Eugene slipped from his grip and ducked the blow. He grabbed Daryl's wrists and forced him back, something he was sure he couldn't have done if Daryl were sober._

 _"Man, get the fuck off me!"_

 _"Not until you hear what I'm saying."_

 _But Daryl snarled, cuffing his head against Eugene's nose._

 _"I don't care what you're sayin'. As far as I'm concerned everything that ever comes out of your mouth is a fuckin' lie."_

 _Blood streamed past Eugene's lips. The initial pain had made him release his grip, so Daryl was free to barrel into him, knocking him to the ground. The breath was driven from his lungs. Through watering eyes he looked up to see that Daryl had cocked his fist back._

 _Eugene lifted his arms to block the punch; his wrists crossed over Daryl's arm, locking it in place. Daryl's free fist socked him hard in the side, but Eugene rolled with the blow. He staggered to his feet._

 _"Daryl. I truly do not want to fight you."_

 _"_ Then leave! _"_

 _He crouched on hands and knees, his shoulders rigid with pain. When he spoke again his voice was thick with it._

 _"You wanna try and make this about how I'm alone now? Bet that's real funny to you. Well I don't give a shit. I've been makin' it on my own all my life."_

 _The words sent a pang of sorrow through him, because he understood the hollowness behind them. He'd grown up with it. He'd seen it in his father, too._

 _After a moment, Daryl staggered to his feet. And because he didn't know what else to say, Eugene blurted out the first thing that came to mind._

 _"You remind me of someone I used to know."_

 _Daryl peered at him, like he was trying to decide if he was joking or not. Finally he said, "You don't remind me of anyone."_

 _Eugene coughed a nervous laugh. "I am my own unique snowflake."_

 _They stood in silence for a while, awkward now that the hostility had run its course. Eugene wished idly that Mason were there to break the tension, and then wondered if she would have been able to. Daryl just looked unbelievably tired._

 _"You're not alone, by the way," Eugene said._

 _Daryl looked at him but said nothing, chewing the inside of his lip._

 _"I know you were referring to...well-" He paused, unable to bring himself to say "romance". "But I have come to believe that this family is more than a family. We're like one big group of soulmates. A soul family, for lack of a better appellation."_

 _He was surprised by how strongly he believed his own words. As a man of science he had never put much stock into balmy concepts like soulmates or destiny. But there was no denying that he and Mason were made for each other; all the wounds that life had given them were not wounds at all, but notches for them to fit together. On a larger scale, the same was true for the people who had become his family. His true family, truer than anyone he shared blood with._

 _"I guess I am simply trying to say that you really should come home, because back there is an entire group of people who could not stand to lose you. And for what it's worth, which is likely not much, I am sorry."_

 _After a long silence, Daryl shook his head. "Nah. I'm a dick when I'm drunk."_

 _They wandered the woods for a bit, mostly in silence, while Daryl sobered up. Daryl apologized for Eugene's nose, and Eugene said it was fine, it wasn't even broken. By the time they returned home, it felt like maybe, given time, they could be friends._

 _That night, Eugene sat awake in bed. Mason was sleeping soundly beside him, her head resting on his leg. Though he was glad her nightmares finally seemed to have left her in peace, he envied her. The fight with Daryl had brought back memories of his father, and they kept him from sleep._

 _Idly he paged through the book on the bedside table, a book of poems Mason was reading. He'd never really understood poetry. The theory of them, yes. Villanelles, sestinas, haikus...all of them had structure, and yet many of them made little sense. Deciphering emotions, especially through the nebulous lens of a writer, had never been his forte._

 _Yet when he came to the poem that Mason had dogeared, he found his eyes drawn to the words, and then struck by them, and then enamored by them._

 _"_ I am alone in the world, and yet not alone enough

to make each hour holy.

I am lowly in this world, and yet not lowly enough

for me to be just a thing to you,

dark and shrewd.

I want my will and I want to go with my will

as it moves towards action.

And I want in those silent, somehow faltering times,

to be with someone who knows,

or else alone.

I want to reflect everything about you

and I never want to be too blind or too ancient

to keep your profound wavering image with me.

I want to unfold.

I don't want to be folded anywhere,

because there, where I'm folded,

I am a lie. _"_

 _The words put a feeling in his chest he couldn't quantify. He glanced down at Mason, at the poetry of her sleeping form, and was struck all over again by how much he adored her. And he knew suddenly that things had changed. He'd thought this, of course, after the battle for Alexandria, after the kiss, after making love with the very love of his life, but in that moment he_ knew. _The kind of knowing that could only be felt deep in one's bones. The kind of knowing that was both weight and release._

 _Things had changed, and he had changed with them. They all had, in fact._ _Some deep facet of himself had been conclusively altered, he had been_ unfolded _,_ _and he couldn't help feeling that from then on, life would be as damn close to perfection as it could get._

 **Mason**

Abraham made a face at the beanie on Eugene's head.

"You look like a goddamn hipster."

With a dramatic glance out the window, Eugene said, "You just don't understand me."

"I understand that I'm about five seconds from throwing that floppy rat hat out of this car."

"You will do no such thing," Mason piped up from the backseat. "That's _my_ beanie, this bastard just won't give it back." She kicked the back of Eugene's seat for emphasis.

"That there is a rich accusation coming from the woman who _steals all of my shirts_."

"Then stop wearing such comfy shirts. In fact, stop wearing shirts in general."

"Ooh, yeah. Or better yet, just don't wear anything. Buff it out like shoe polish." Abraham rolled his eyes.

Mason grinned. "I like that idea."

They'd been driving for the better part of four hours, past all the towns and houses they normally scavenged. The food had finally started to run low, enough that both Abraham and Rick had taken out teams to scour the outliers of their usual territory. Mason tried not to feel anxious about this, but because of the expansion they'd gotten a late start on the gardens. They'd yielded hardly anything, and spring was months away.

"Hey, check it. Village to pillage, portside," Mason said, pointing down a side road where a water tower peeked over the treetops.

"That's what I'm talking about." Abraham took the turn so sharply that Mason and Eugene slammed against their respective windows.

"Jesus Christ-"

" _Watch_ it-"

"Oh, cram it, violas. Ya'll would've never made it in the rodeo."

The town had been deserted for a while, the windows covered in dust, the roads overgrown with weeds. It was beautifully eerie.

It was a small town. The only grocery store had clearly been ransacked but they checked it anyway. A handful of walkers roamed the aisles, easily dispatched. However there was barely enough food left to fill a single basket. Noting the pinch between Eugene's eyebrows, Mason nudged him.

"We still have the rest of town to go through," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "But what about when this well runs dry, too?"

Anxiety prickled her stomach. Glancing furtively to make sure Abraham couldn't hear, she murmured, "You don't think we'll make it through the winter?"

"By my calculations, even with rations, the pantry as is will be empty by January at the latest."

Mason swallowed. January was a month and a half away.

"We'll find more food," she said firmly. "And Rick and Daryl will, too."

"I truly hope that you're right. But we will be cutting it a bit closer than I am comfortable with."

When the grocery store was thoroughly siphoned, they moved from house to house. But the food was as few and far between as the walkers, which was starting to make her uneasy. Ghost towns no longer existed in the original sense. There were only towns that belonged to the undead.

"What about the school?" Eugene suggested. There was only one, the elementary, middle and high school all hybridized like a brick nesting doll. It loomed darkly against the setting sun.

Abraham looked skeptical. "Think they'd have much in there on the nonperishable side?"

"It's the same we'd be gambling anywhere else here," Mason said.

"Alright. But we do this minuteman style- in and out."

The front doors were bloodstained and hanging by their hinges, so dark inside they couldn't see a thing. Staring into its menacing maw, Mason had never been so terrified by the prospect of walking into a school. Beside her, Eugene shivered.

"Best years of our lives," he muttered.

They didn't bother with the classrooms, but they did find a few snack items and a couple of dusty sodas stashed away in the teacher's lounge. Mason began to hope that they would actually come away with something after all. The hallways were grim and cave-like. Their faces looked ghostly and pale in the glow of their flashlights, and every once in a while Mason noticed Eugene glaring at their surroundings like he expected the dark to attack. His nervousness made her nervous; by the time they reached the cafeteria, she felt like a tightly coiled spring.

The room was filled with upturned tables and broken chairs, all of them splattered with old blood. The windows let in the gruesome twilight, gory reds and bruising blues. As they made their way to the kitchen, Mason spotted something through the eerie, dimming light, a word written in blood on one of the tables.

SOLSTICE

A shock of ice made her veins tingle. She hadn't had the Nightmare in months but the words came back to her then.

 _Here is your longest night. Your darkest winter solstice._

Suddenly she felt a little sick.

The kitchen had been ransacked, smeared with blood and some kind of sauce that had spilled in the melee. It reeked of rot, both food and flesh, but in the back of the stagnant walk-in Abraham discovered several boxes of assorted nonperishables.

"Honey my ass and stick me in the oven to glaze," he crowed. "There's some good shit in here. Look! SpaghettiOs!"

"Reign in your inner child there, Red," Mason said, though she was only half-paying attention. The wariness on Eugene's face had caught her eye. She raised an eyebrow, and he flashed her two silent signals, each in quick succession.

 _Quality assurance._

 _Trap._

She stiffened. "Abraham."

The tone of her voice brought him to his feet, one hand on the gun at his belt. He waited for her to elaborate but she just glanced at Eugene, who was cautiously examining the door to the walk-in. After a moment, Abraham threw them both a flat glare.

"What the hell are you two jumpy idiots twisting your panties about?"

"It's too convenient," Eugene answered. "Either someone lives here, which I find improbable given the general unsavory conditions, or this is some kind of snare."

"And why in God's divine britches would you think that?"

"There's hardly any dust on that food compared to the rest of this place. And look at how equally it's divided. There's one of everything. When scavenging are you usually afforded the luxury of options?"

"Oh, that's bullshit. What do you think's gonna happen? There ain't no strings attached to any of these boxes, there ain't no tripwire. Maybe someone came here a while back and thought they'd be producing carbon a few ticks longer than old lady Fate was willing."

Mason's heart jumped as Abraham picked up the boxes, fully expecting the door to swing shut and entomb them in the walk-in. But it never budged. She exchanged an uneasy glance with Eugene.

Abraham snorted. "Yep. A plus deduction there, doc. Let's go."

But he stopped abruptly in the kitchen doorway, staring at the entrance to the cafeteria where at least fifty walkers milled about.

"What the fuck?" Mason whispered. A second later, Eugene nudged her and pointed to the kitchen doors. A wire had been strung from it, all the way across the cafeteria and out into the hall.

"Probably sprung the classroom doors."

"C'mon," Abraham hissed, nodding to an emergency exit on their left. They hurried toward it, quick and quiet, and it looked like they would escape without incident.

But as they pushed their way out into the parking lot there came a soft click from above them, and suddenly the back doors of eight school buses were swinging open. Walkers poured out, immediately drawn by the warm scent of living flesh.

" _Shit_ ," Mason hissed, drawing her fire poker as Abraham and Eugene took up defensive positions beside her.

"We won't survive them," Eugene said.

"We can," Abraham growled.

"We _won't_ ," Eugene snapped. "We have to run."

"Run where? We're surrounded."

The parking lot was fenced in, the buses placed at strategic angles within it, but just off to left there was a tiny opening between two pockets of walkers. Mason pointed.

"There! Go!"

They took off running and made it halfway before they had to start fighting. With the boxes snug under one arm, Abraham could only do so much. Mason and Eugene covered him as best they could, circling around him as they slashed a path to the opening, which had started to narrow.

Abraham reached the fence first and managed to toss one of the boxes over the side, but as he was gearing up to throw the second the walkers converged all at once. Several of them staggered past Mason and Eugene, forcing Abraham to drop the food.

"Fucking _climb_!" Mason shouted.

For a second, Abraham's eyes glinted with familiar fury but in the end he obeyed without arguing.

The three of them escaped, but only by inches. Once they were all safely over the fence they turned to stare at the walkers, slobbering and shaking the chain link.

"Well, turns out you were right, huh, doc?" Abraham growled. "Bet you're real satisfied about that. You get to say 'I told you so.'"

Mason glared. "Don't get pissy with him just because you called it wrong."

Eugene stepped between them, as per usual whenever they were in danger of escalating to a full-blown fight. "Both of you, cool it. We're still breathin'. Red's just being an asshole because he thought we were going to die."

They scowled at each other a moment longer before looking away.

"We may as well stay the night here," he continued, and this time they turned their frowns on him. "We will need to be well-rested for the return journey. We cannot gamble our safety on the hope alone that we won't waltz into another shit storm."

Reluctantly they agreed that this was probably the best course of action, and Eugene led them away from the school like a mother herding two petulant siblings to their time out.

 **Eugene**

 _"I don't think it would be proper to teach you if you're not willing to accept it as a lifestyle."_

 _"By that respect, would it be proper for you to criticize the way the rest of my family regards killing? Especially given that you're living with them."_

 _Morgan smiled thinly. "You're a shrewd man, Eugene."_

 _"I will not argue that."_

 _For three months, Eugene had observed Morgan's unique fighting style from afar. Only now that he was starting to gain confidence in that area had he decided to ask about it. Mason and Carol still had not forgiven him for letting the Wolves live, and Eugene himself did not agree with Morgan's decision._ _But Morgan fought so well. He truly could have been deadly if he'd let himself._

 _"I only want to know as much as I can," Eugene continued. "I am not asking that you convert me to Aikido, I am not interested in that. I am not interested either in perverting your beliefs. I am only interested in keeping my family safe. I failed them in the past, I will not do so again."_

 _Morgan examined him for a long while and then sighed. "I can only tell you the theory. And the theory is this: that it is possible to redirect the thoughts and actions of the living. Of yourself. That what we've done, we've done, and that we can move forward, out of a history that would try to hold us back. We can make up for it."_

 _He remembered D.C., nine names clamoring in his nightmares, the terror of knowing he was fucked either way. He remembered the boy who used to flinch if anyone ever raised their voice, who watched that sidewalk drink up his father's blood, and the man that boy grew into, so afraid of dying that he'd been willing to lie and sacrifice because nobody would ever care about him anyway so why should he give a shit?_

 _He thought of how far away he felt from that man now._

 _"That's all I want," he murmured. "I want to make up for it."_

 **Mason**

"You guys are never going to fucking believe what I found."

Eugene was sitting with his back against the bed, munching from the box of stale cereal they'd all been passing around. Abraham stood watch at the window, peering every few minutes through a tiny slit in the curtains. They both looked at the box she held up with equal perplexity.

"Just what are we not fucking believing?" Abraham asked.

"Cards Against Humanity! Don't tell me you've never played."

"I don't like games unless there's money involved."

"Fat lot of good money's gonna do you these days. Plus, I have a feeling you'll like this game. You, too, Gene Bean. Your sense of humor is weird and fucked up."

Eugene raised an eyebrow. "Is that a requirement for this game?"

Mason grinned. "Yes! C'mon, we have that bottle of Jack. Let's end this day right."

Abraham and Eugene agreed with clear skepticism, but twenty minutes in and none of them could breathe they were laughing so hard. They sat in a small circle on the bed while Mason's iPod played in the background, candles and cards strewn about the room.

Mason cleared her throat in an attempt to curb her laughter. "Alright, alright. The prompt is: 'And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for blank.' Ya'll make your play."

"Well, I'm fresh out of sexually depraved cards, but I still think I'll win," Eugene said, laying his card down on the bed. He was already in the lead and his tone was cocky.

"Ha! Good luck with that, partner," Abraham replied and slapped his own card down.

Mason scooped them up and intoned, with all the seriousness she could muster, "Okay. If Eugene gets this point, he wins the game. If Abraham gets it, we all keep playing. And now the judge will evaluate... 'I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for an unstoppable wave of fire ants.'" She paused to get her giggles under control, then read the second card. "Or, the moist demanding chasm of his mouth."

All of them laughed a moment, and it was enough to make her forget that she'd ever had a worry.

"Well...they're both great, but I think I'm gonna have to go with the fire ants."

" _What_?"

Abraham gaped at her as though she'd just confessed to stealing his girlfriend. Eugene took a victory sip of whiskey and immediately spluttered. Mason snorted at both of them.

"You chose it because it was his, didn't you?" Abraham whined.

"Why the fuck...I want to win, too!"

"I'm just more hilarious than the two of you," Eugene said loftily.

"Yeah, well, winner has to patrol downstairs and check all the doors and windows. Yeah. Tell all the curtains how funny you are."

"Sore loser."

Abraham took a long swig from the bottle, eyeing him as he left, and then glanced at Mason.

"That man really is the anchor in your storm, ain't he?"

She blinked, puzzled by this sudden change of topic. "Well. Yeah. He's the love of my life."

Abraham nodded, staring at the doorway and fiddling with his necklace. She got the distinct feeling that he was purposely not looking at her.

"When did you know he was the one? You know, the one to nick the covers late in the p.m. and argue with over what to eat for dinner and all that domestic crap?"

"I, um, I'm not sure exactly. I mean, you know, cuz I was in such denial about it for so long."

She fell silent, frowning at Abraham's expression. It was too complicated to read, but something in it motivated her to think through her answer.

"I think I knew...when I realized that mornings wouldn't be real without him. That I would always want to look up from a book to see him reading one next to me. That I would never look at beds or tables or windows the same, just knowing he could be there. I don't know if I'm making much sense, but... Morning to morning, and all the time in between, I wanted him there."

Abraham nodded silently. Then he heaved a nervous sigh.

"I've been...thinking about that kind of stuff for a while now. Mind's been doing some restructuring. And I have come to a conclusion that...quite frankly scares my nuts off."

Mason raised an eyebrow but didn't prompt him. He would say it when he was ready.

"I think that I am in..." He shook his head and started over. "I think there is a woman who makes mornings real for me and, you know, all that. But. It ain't Rosita."

Shock jolted her. "Who?" she asked, but even as she spoke she thought she knew. She wasn't blind. She'd seen how close he and Sasha had grown the last couple months.

"Miss Porter, if you make me say it, I swear on God's flaming chariot... I consider you a very close friend but I am not willing to jinx myself just yet."

"Didn't know you were superstitious."

"Neither did I, but here we are."

Mason sighed. "Look. I'm not going to tell you what to do. If you think you've found the love of your life, that's fucking awesome, I will be so excited for you. You deserve to be happy. But Rosita's my friend, too. And she deserves more than someone who's only pretending."

"You're right. She does," he said quietly.

She was curious to see what it was he planned to do, but she didn't want to pry. Instead she smiled and said, "Am I ever wrong?"

"Yeah, when you pick Eugene's card over mine."

 **Eugene**

He crept out of bed as quietly as he could, sidestepping Abraham, who was asleep on the floor. He grabbed his pack and his gun, snuck down the stairs and out the front door, and thought himself pretty damn stealthy as he made his way up the road.

"What in the fuck do you think you're doing?" Mason hissed, making him jump.

He turned to see her glaring at him. Her hair was frizzy from sleep, and she looked for all the world like a vengeful angel jarred from slumber.

" _Jesus,_ May."

"Where are you going?"

He fidgeted a little. "I couldn't sleep. So I thought why not put my insomnia to use and go back to the school to recover our lost food."

She stalked toward him, eyes blazing. "You _asshole._ You didn't think to bring either of us?"

"I didn't want to wake you..."

"You'd rather me wake up to an empty bed? Go searching for you, completely lose my shit... Goddammit, Eugene. _Don't do that to me_."

"Apologies," he mumbled.

She sighed, taking a moment to bridle her temper. "Just...next time you do something stupid, I'm coming with you."

"Right. Partners."

Grumpily she bumped her right arm against his left, right where their Wolf scars matched up.

"So. What's the plan for tonight's stupid adventure?"

"Well...there is something I've been meaning to show you. I suppose now is as good a time as ever."

They walked to the school in companionable silence, watching their breath make ghosts in the November air. He could tell Mason was curious in spite of herself, and he felt a sudden rush of anticipation.

The walkers noticed them almost as soon as they came in sight, clustering against the fence. Eugene spotted the boxes and their spilled contents under their feet. Mason turned to him expectantly.

"You take that side," he said, pointing to the right. "Call as many over there as you can. I'll take this side."

She nodded, still looking bemused. She began running her fire poker across the chain link, shouting for the walkers to follow her. Slowly, half of them did.

Eugene followed her example, and after a while most of the herd had been divided. Only then did he back up, reaching into his pack for his bow and a strange-looking arrow. There was a pouch tied to the head, and a little fuse like a tail. He lit this with the lighter he'd begun carrying around. Then he nocked the arrow, took a deep breath, and sent it over the fence into the crowd.

A moment later, a pocket of them exploded in a volley of flesh and fire.

"Holy _shit_!" Mason shouted from her side of the fence, but Eugene didn't have time to acknowledge her. As he'd hoped, his walkers had been distracted by the flames, but he knew it wouldn't last long. He scaled the fence and hurried for the food.

Some of it had scattered, but he was able to gather most of it before the walkers began returning their attention to him.

"Eugene! C'mon!" Mason called.

He tossed the boxes over the side and then followed himself. A moment later, the walkers crashed into the fence.

Mason was practically bouncing with excitement. "That was amazing! Did you make that? Is that the bomb you were talking about this morning? Holy shit!"

Eugene blushed a little. "It is indeed. I can show you the composition when we return home. I wanted to before but only once it was completed, and it was just recently that I got my hands on some grade A firecrackers. Much more efficient as fuses."

Her eyes shone. "You are so fucking cool."

They returned to the house with their rescued food, and in the morning Abraham was torn comically between anger that they'd risked their asses and praise for their successful mission. They packed up everything in the car, including the card game. Mason played her iPod, and the three of them sang loud, jovial renditions of cheesy 80's songs, and they drove home to the tune of "Don't Stop Believin'".

 **Mason**

 _She stopped in front of the mirror, the first time she'd done so in months. Her shirt was off, her scars exposed, but for the first time it didn't hurt to look at them._

 _They'd healed up nicely. Eugene had tended to them diligently, long after he'd needed to. Now he kissed them every night._

 _Delicately she touched them, and whispered, "Because there, where I'm folded, I am a lie."_

 _Later that day, she took every razor she'd hoarded and threw them in the quarry._


	16. Run

Hey, guys! I'm back and excited to bring ya'll another chapter. This one's title is "Run" by AWOLNATION, which some of you may already know. If not, check it out sometime, it's pretty kickass and it definitely fits this chapter/episode. I wanted this one to feel a little disjointed, so it jumps from scene to scene a bit. Hopefully it's not too jarring, but I wanted to lay a foundation of unease because I just realized something earlier and _holy shit, guys_. We are coming up fast on season seven (*internal screaming*). Anyway, as always, thank you all for your support and reviews. Let me know what ya'll think!

16\. Run

"So how old were you when your dad came back?"

"Sixteen. I remember because my mom felt bad about not having money to buy me anything for my birthday. I didn't care, but she..."

"She was like you. Guilt complex."

"Maybe, but she was way tougher. She could always take what life threw at her. That's why it shocked me so much when she came home crying that day, and then to hear that it was because of my dad...and that he hadn't cared enough to see me..."

"You're not stupid for grieving. He didn't die, but he left a hole all the same."

"I'm not going to cry over him, Denise. I'm done with that."

"Okay. But you have to know that if you don't acknowledge these things, they're gonna build up. You can't just claim you're done out of anger. You need to feel all of it, even the ugly parts. Drain the pus from the wound, as it were."

"That's a lovely visual. Fitting for my dad, I guess."

"So that day. What did your mom tell you about his visit?"

"She just said he came in while she was on break and kept asking her all these questions. Like, nice questions but in a really asshole-ish way, if that makes sense? Like everyone could tell he was being a prick but taken out of context he would've seemed like an old friend catching up. I think that's what really fucked her up. That he acted like he had this... _control_ over her."

"From what you say, it sounds like this would have been their normal dynamic."

"You didn't know my mom."

"No, I didn't. But anyone can be a victim of manipulation, especially someone who's emotionally invested. So, now... I'd like to talk about Gina."

"...What about Gina?"

~m~

"We can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal. We're getting food- eggs, butter, fresh vegetables- but they're not just giving it away."

Rick spoke from the pulpit in the church. Everyone else- minus Olivia, who was inventorying their new supply of food- sat in the pews, listening in grave silence. And in the corner behind Rick sat a man with long hair and startling blue eyes.

Yesterday, while Mason, Eugene and Abraham had been scouting, Rick and Daryl had suffered their own slew of problems. Apparently they'd found a whole truck full of food, but because of some cocky asshole they'd lost the whole thing and it now sat at the bottom of a pond. The asshole in question- whom Rick and Daryl had captured and who said to call him Jesus- belonged to a group of people called the Hilltop, and earlier that morning Rick had taken a group to their community to strike a deal for food.

"These Saviors," Rick continued. "They almost killed Sasha, Daryl and Abraham out on the road. Sooner or later they would've found us, just like the Wolves did. From what Jesus said, and from what we saw at the Hilltop, they would kill us and then they would try to _own_ us. And we would fight, but as low as we are on food? We could lose. This is the only way to be sure, as sure as we can get, that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, and this is how we keep this place, it's how we feed our people. But this needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

Mason exchanged a glance with Eugene. Apparently she wasn't the only one feeling uneasy about the whole thing. It wasn't necessarily that she was afraid to fight, though a part of her was already quivering with anxiety over the safety of her people. Something was off. She couldn't tell if it was Jesus and this Hilltop, or the faceless threat of the Saviors, but something felt... _wrong_. Like they were missing something, overlooking something vital.

Clearly Eugene felt the same, but he leaned closer to murmur, "We'll talk with Rick after the meeting."

Silently she nodded. Rick had called everyone in the community so that everyone could voice their opinion, but once the decision was made he would hold a meeting with the council to hash out the details. Eugene now held a place on that council as Rick's strategist, and his assessments were held in high regard.

She wasn't surprised when Morgan spoke up.

"You're sure we can do it? We can beat them?"

"What this group has done. What we've learned, what we've become," Rick said. "Yes. I'm sure."

"Then all we have to do is just tell them that."

She stifled a snort of derision. The others in the room remained hushed, but she could see she wasn't alone in her disdain.

"They don't compromise," Rick said.

"This isn't compromise," Morgan replied. "It's a choice you give them. It's a way out, for them and for us."

"If we try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our _safety_. No. We have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive."

"We're not trapped in this!" Morgan's eyes flashed, something seething beneath the surface. "None of you are trapped in this."

"Morgan." Rick shook his head. "They always come back."

"Yeah, they come back when they're dead, too."

"And we'll stop them."

"I'm not talking about the walkers."

Rick paused. He glanced around the room and said, "Morgan wants to talk to the Saviors first. Now I think that would be a mistake but it's not up to me. Who else wants to approach the Saviors?"

Mason stood up. "What happened here, with the Wolves? We won't let that happen again." She looked firmly in Morgan's direction. " _I_ won't let it happen."

Never again. She could still see those Wolves scaling the walls, killing her people under her watch.

Never again.

Morgan eyed her for a moment, as though reading all of this in her face, and then he dipped his head. When no one else voiced an objection, Rick nodded.

"Then it looks like it's settled." A shadow settled over his expression. "We kill them all."

In the pew ahead of her, Mason noticed Tara wilt at his words. With a jolt, she realized that this was probably the same kind of meeting she'd sat in on with the Governor once upon a time.

 _But this is different. She has to see that._

"Now everyone, we're going to do this as soon as possible. We make preparations and then we leave, so if any of you have anything to add, I wouldn't dawdle."

The words were a dismissal, but as the majority flooded out, the council stayed- Daryl and Glenn, Maggie and Sasha, Abraham and Carol, Mason and Eugene. Michonne would have been there normally, but Rick had put her on guard just in case. Jesus remained in the church with the council. Mason tried not to feel as though they were in the presence of a spy.

Abraham clapped his hands together- eager as always for a fight. "Alright. Brass tacks. Where are these self-righteous pricks and when do we shove the boot up their collective ass?"

Sasha threw him a look, affection and exasperation mingling together, and Mason wondered briefly if Abraham had had a chance to act on what he'd confessed last night.

"Put a pause on that boot-shoving, Red," Eugene said. "I agree that these Saviors are something we need to take care of, and I am not against doing what we have to in order to preserve the Safe Zone, but I worry that it may not be wise to attack when we know so little about them."

"Well, that's why Jesus is here," Rick replied.

"All due respect, Rick, but unless he has spent time among them, I cannot imagine that he could accurately prescribe the enlightenment a move of this magnitude requires."

"He's right, we can't just go in blind," Sasha said.

Mason nodded. "We go in with our thumbs up our asses, we're taking casualties. The element of surprise only lasts so long."

For the first time, Jesus spoke. "That's why I'm here."

Mistrust prickled in her gut. Daryl had told her every detail of his misadventure with this wily stranger, which she found difficult to look past.

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, get on with it, then."

He smirked, for all the world thoroughly amused by her suspicion. "Sure thing, love." He turned to Rick, missing the vitriolic look she threw him, and said, "Like it was said before, they want our leader, Gregory, dead. That's our window of opportunity. If we go there under the guise of delivering his head to Negan, we can steal into the compound. And one of my men has been there, he's seen inside. Andy. He can draw a map of the place."

"We're not just talking about a building," Eugene said, his tone unexpectedly brittle. "We need a head count. We cannot allow their numbers to take us by surprise."

"That's why we go in at night. The front entrance is guarded by two men, always, but they will be easy enough to take out if we're smart about it. They have a good number of people, but if we catch them while they're sleeping it won't be a problem."

Mason hated the part of her that saw sense in this. She shared a look with Eugene and there was that calculation again, that distant, fragmented part of him weighing all the options.

"A group this powerful, with such a heavy hand," he said. "You'd think they'd have a better security system than two men sitting on the front porch with their shotguns."

Jesus shrugged. "They're arrogant," he replied. "As far as I know, they've never really been challenged before. Certainly never by a group with this much fighting experience."

"Damn straight," Abraham said.

"Is that what we're gambling on? Their arrogance?" Mason said.

"Yes," Rick said. "We've done it before. With Terminus. With the Governor."

"This is a little different than that."

"If something goes wrong, we'll be right in the middle of the snake pit," Sasha added.

"We've gotten out of worse before," Daryl said. "Didn't think we'd get out of that train car, but here we are."

"And if Carol hadn't shown up that day?" Eugene replied.

Rick held up a hand. "Look, I've entertained my own doubts about this and I see where you're coming from, I do. But the longer we wait, the higher the risk that they end up discovering us. And we can't have that."

Mason had to admit it was a miracle they hadn't already. Eugene looked at her, his eyes glittering with emotions she couldn't read. She wondered what he saw in her face.

Finally, he nodded. "Okay. But we need to make this plan as air tight as possible."

~m~

"So I think we both know things probably aren't going to go as planned tomorrow."

Mason stepped out the master bathroom in a cloud of steam, brushing her wet hair. She wore nothing but her underwear and one of Eugene's shirts, and the simplicity of it made her feel a little better. Like they were living a normal life in a normal world.

Eugene was riffling through their closet. He didn't turn around as he replied, "When do they ever." He said it so flatly it wasn't even a question.

Mason didn't respond at first. She peeked instead out the window, down into the garden where they'd decided to bury Bill and Janet.

After the battle for Alexandria, when everything was finally settled, she and Eugene had moved into Bill's house at Aaron's insistence.

"You were so important to them. It's what they would've wanted," he'd said.

For the first month they'd had the place to themselves, a gift of sorts from the others- an unofficial honeymoon. But after that, Sasha had moved into the bedroom downstairs- likely, Mason thought now, to distance herself from Abraham and Rosita and the inevitable drama. Mason wasn't complaining. Sasha was the perfect cotenant. Often they all had dinner together, movie nights when the mood struck. Mason was well aware that in the absence of Tyreese, Eugene had become something of a surrogate brother to Sasha, someone to tease and argue with. But her presence was never a burden, and she valued quiet moments alone as much as Mason and Eugene did.

Tonight, however, it didn't feel like one of those times. It didn't feel like space. It felt like Mason and Eugene were alone together in a house, dwarfed by the enormity of the world.

"There's something off about all this," she said.

Eugene continued to dig through the closet. "Agreed, but I have yet to figure out precisely what."

Frustrated, Mason nodded agreement. She had to admit that part of it no doubt stemmed from her meetings with Denise. For months now, she had been playing therapist to both Mason and Eugene, helping them deal with the demons that continued to haunt them. That morning, Denise had prompted her to talk about Gina. Implied that Gina had...

She clenched her jaw, stifling the rush of uncomfortable darkness bubbling in her chest. It had disturbed her enough that she couldn't let herself think about it, and ever since she'd been on edge.

"Maybe it's just because it's out of nowhere, you know?" she said. "Except for what happened to Daryl and them out on the road, we'd never heard anything about Negan. It's been peaceful for so long, it just feels out of place. Or something."

That wasn't it, either, but it was the best she could come up with.

"Yeah. Maybe. Okay, May, have you seen my black shirt? The long-sleeved one?"

Finally he turned around and Mason froze like a deer in the headlights. She blinked innocently, like that would somehow distract from the fact that she was wearing said shirt.

"Uh... Nope."

"Oh, you haven't?"

Slowly he advanced toward her and she backed away, a smile tugging irresistibly at the corners of her mouth.

"No, can't say I have."

"Well, that is a puzzler. Wonder where it could've gone."

He lunged, tumbling onto the bed with her in his arms. She squirmed, giggling nervously, but couldn't break free. He eyed her sternly.

"I'm gonna need that back."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She squealed when he leaned down and started blowing raspberries on her tummy, trying desperately to push him away.

"Stop! Stop! You can have it!"

He paused to raise an eyebrow suggestively. "I can, huh?"

She blushed. "Yeah, that, too."

With a sultry grin, he began kissing her neck. Immediately she melted, sighing and clutching at his back.

"You're tense," he murmured.

"Mmm... So soften me up."

Laughing lightly, he freed her of what little clothing she wore and kissed a trail down her throat to her breasts, her navel, her thighs. She gave herself over completely to him. And at the first feel of his breath between her legs, the heat and agonizing gentleness, she shuddered, tangled her fingers in his hair and forgot everything else.

~m~

"These soldiers look exactly the opposite of chipper."

Mason glanced back from her spot in the passenger's seat. Abraham was right. Most of the execution squad was in the RV with them- Eugene, Daryl, Sasha, Heath, Carol, Aaron, Tara and Gabriel. The others- Michonne, Glenn, Rosita, Andy and Jesus- rode with Rick in the truck ahead. The mood in the was more than grim; most of them looked downright sick.

"What do you expect?" she replied quietly. "They're not soldiers and this, what we're doing? This is a lot different than things we've done in the past."

Abraham snorted. "No it ain't. We're protectin' our own, no two roads about it."

"Most of them have never killed anyone in cold blood before."

"Doll, in my opinion? It ain't cold blood when there's stakes as high as these. Besides, those guys were complete, one hundred and ninety proof _fuck holes_. They woulda taken all our shit, raped and pillaged until we were less than who we were when we were on the road. I say let 'em all burn."

"Dude, I'm with you, but not everyone is as, um..."

He grinned. "Bloodthirsty as we are?"

"I'm not bloodthirsty."

"You are a literal vampire."

"That's...do you know what literal means?"

"Us good ole boys got an education same as you, you uppity Yank."

They stuck their tongues out at each other and then Abraham sighed.

"Look, you know what got me through this kind of hard-boiled, harder to swallow shit back in the war? Just before we had to dig our dicks into whatever nasty muff Old Lady Doom offered that day-"

"Gross."

"-I would remind myself that even before fighting, my first love was having fun. You're only allowed to fall apart _after_ you get shit done."

Without another word he reached for the stereo, through which her iPod had begun to play "Bohemian Rhapsody", and turned it up high enough that the speakers buzzed.

"Christ!" Mason protested, but Abraham just beamed and started singing along at top volume.

Everyone in the back began to grumble, but most of their protests were drowned out by the music. Abraham elbowed her several times, continuing to sing in a throaty bellow.

"You idiot," Mason said, but started singing, too. She didn't let herself think about what her family would have to do in a few hours. She didn't think of how they would feel after because right now it wasn't after. Right now they were just comrades in a car.

When the song ended, everyone took the opportunity to make their complaints heard. But it was easy to see that it had made them feel a little better, the unconcern, the normalcy of her and Abraham acting like dorks.

A while later, Rick pulled to the side of the road and Abraham parked behind him.

"Just like night fishing," he said and laid on the horn. The sound pealed through the woods. Whatever walkers were nearby would be drawn by it for sure.

Everyone exited the cars, pairing off into groups of two or three. Eugene and Daryl flanked her automatically. She couldn't help noticing as they walked into the woods that Rosita was with Aaron, and, a little ways off, Abraham and Sasha were disappearing into the trees. She winced. He must have told Rosita after all.

It took a while. The forest was eerily quiet, like it was playing along with their clandestine crusade. But eventually they came upon a single walker and beheaded it.

Eugene held it up by its hair. It snapped at him while he examined it.

"Think this looks like Gregory?" he asked Daryl, who'd met the Hilltop leader yesterday.

Daryl shrugged. "Not really."

"So it's not douchey enough. Okay, cool," Mason said, who had not been impressed by Maggie's description of the man. She stabbed her knife into the skull. "Keep your eyes out for an arrogant lech bastard."

Eugene tossed the head into the woods. "Alright, best theory wins."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Oh my god..."

Mason frowned. "About what?"

"Why no one else has tried to rise up against the Saviors."

Mason and Daryl stopped. Eugene looked unflinchingly at both of them, waiting for a response.

"You havin' doubts?" Daryl asked.

"I'm just curious, if there are as many groups as Jesus said there were, why none of them have ever entertained the idea of rebellion."

"Maybe they have," Mason said.

Eugene nodded, and when he spoke the darkness in his voice, in his eyes, sheathed her spine in ice.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

~m~

"We'll go in a couple hours before dawn. Guards outside'll be tired, easier to take out. Everyone inside will be sleeping."

The group was gathered in a loose circle around Rick and the heads they'd all gathered. Their faces were grim and pale. Again it occurred to her that a lot of them had never done anything like this. Even Carol was looking drawn, which put a prickle of unease in Mason's stomach.

Rick glanced at each of them in turn and said, "This is how we eat. This is how we survive. Now everybody get some rest. We roll out at midnight."

While the others dispersed, he, Andy and Jesus hovered over the heads, picking out which one would best resemble Gregory's. Mason sat on the hood of the truck with Eugene, watching the selection process.

"Denise asked me about Gina."

The words were out before she could stop herself, before she even realized she was about to say them. Eugene blinked at her.

"I thought you'd already talked about her."

"I did. But yesterday morning she asked me...she said..." She paused, choking on the words. Her fingernails made dents in her palms. "We were talking about my dad. How he fucked with my mom's head. How he was manipulative. My mom was one of the strongest people I knew but he...that bastard knew how to play her. How to make her feel like...like she was _nothing_. Like everything about her was for _him_ , to do what _he_ wanted with it... _God...goddammit_."

It was right there, she had almost said it, but at the last second she swallowed it back. That truth she'd always known, in some deep, wretched corner. In some sleeping version of herself.

Eugene reached out to brush away her tears. "Is that what she did to you?"

His voice was so gentle. It broke her completely.

She leaned into his arms, turning her face to his chest so no one else would know she was crying. She clutched at him beneath his jacket, making fists in his shirt, desperate to feel him, smell him, assure that he was real.

She knew there was so much more. So many memories to reacquaint herself with, to see from a new perspective. So much damage to untangle. But for now, this was all she could ask. His arms around her, holding her shattered edges.

~m~

"I don't want the bag, needle dick."

The red lights cast a sinister glow on the two men who had come out to greet Andy. Andy himself looked appropriately nervous, though Mason suspected it wasn't for show. She just hoped he could keep his shit together long enough for them to get inside.

Slowly he lifted the head from the bag and held it up for the guards to examine.

"Well, will you look at this shit!" Guard One crowed.

Guard Two, however, frowned dubiously. "What happened to his nose?"

Andy held up his free hand, which was wrapped in a cast. "He broke it on my fist."

Guard Two snatched the head and held it up next to his own, pulling on the lip to make it look like it was talking. "The little bitch broke my nose," he sneered, and Guard One hooted laughter. Mason's lip curled with dislike.

"Okay," Guard Two continued, patting Andy on the shoulder. "Looks like you've learned. I'll get your guy, you'll go home, and you'll bring us more stuff next week." He disappeared inside.

Daryl moved as soon as the door closed, rushing out from his spot in the bushes to grab Guard One by the head and slit his throat. The rest of the group broke from their hiding places, sprinting silently through the dark to gather along the front walls. Eugene and Daryl carried the body away, but not before Gabriel had a chance to strip it of its weapons. He tossed a handgun to Mason. She tucked it in her belt and pressed against the wall next to Rick.

When Guard Two came back out, carting a man who had clearly been heavily beaten, all evidence of his friend had been cleared from the scene.

"Well, well," he said. "Reunited and it feels so-"

He cut off with a strangled gasp as Mason ran her fire poker through his stomach. The beaten man stumbled forward, but Andy caught him before he could fall. Guard Two fell the ground and Rick knelt next to him, stealing his keys before stabbing him through the head.

Silently, like they'd practiced, everyone flooded into the building. They left behind only Carol and Sasha, who were guarding the perimeter, and Gabriel and Tara, who waited in the getaway car with Andy and his friend.

They paired off into different hallways, using the buddy system from earlier. With Sasha absent, Abraham joined the terrible trio.

He and Mason led the way into the first room they came to, a bedroom where three men slept on cots. Daryl kept watch at the door. Mason, Eugene and Abraham took a man each and stabbed them through the head. They made no sound. There was no fuss. But Mason found herself eyeing Eugene as they committed their murder, her heart filled with sudden fear.

He had killed before but never like this. And she was suddenly afraid, afraid of what it would do to him, if he could bear the weight.

Leaned over his victim, the bloody knife cocked back as though for a second blow, he did not look like a man routed by terrible burden. His eyes flashed to her and there was nothing haunted about them. They were fierce, they flashed like iron. The sight jolted her even as it filled her with relief.

She would do whatever it took to protect her family. So would he. And they would not be sorry for it.

They continued down the hall, checking each room they came across. There was another with two men in it, who Mason and Eugene took out, a storage closet with cleaning supplies that hadn't been touched in over a year, but no armory.

When the alarm blared to life it startled them all. Mason's heart leapt into her throat. Immediately she stood back to back with Eugene, guns raised.

"Just one damn time," Abraham growled. "Just one damn plan that doesn't go south."

The shooting started up a moment later. They took off toward the sound, meeting up with Rick and Michonne at a spiral staircase where a slew of men were firing at them. The arrival of Mason and her group took the men by surprise, and they were able to overwhelm them with gunfire. In a matter of minutes, their bodies were slumped on the steps, showering blood onto the first floor.

"Come on!" Rick said, taking the lead of the two merged groups. The gunfire was coming from all around now, scattering off the walls. They came across another cluster of men by the pantry who were already engaged in a firefight with Aaron and Rosita. It was easy enough to take them down. And in the silence of after, they heard Glenn's voice calling to them, hollow and ragged.

"We found it. We found the armory."

~m~

"So if I come back two weeks from now and you two are married, I'm gonna be super pissed."

Mason grinned and elbowed Eugene. "Yeah, but who would wanna marry him? He's smelly."

"Yeah, and who would wanna marry you? You're even smellier," he replied.

"Ah, yes. I sense the love," Tara said. She hugged them both and Mason felt a flutter of anxiety. She hated when any of them went out on long runs.

She found Heath loading a mini RV parked outside the building. "Nice find," she said.

He jumped, his eyes darting guiltily to her face and then away. She frowned.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I mean, no. I mean, I just...want to get away from here, you know?"

She wished she knew what to say to make it better, but she knew there were no words. She hugged him instead and said, "You and Tara come back safe, okay?"

"Yeah. Will do."

After they'd driven away, the others milled around the compound, checking for any loose ends. When Mason, Daryl and Eugene found each other, their expressions matched.

"Somethin' ain't sittin' right," Daryl said.

"Agreed," Eugene said. "It was too easy."

At that moment, the roar of a motorcycle cut through the quiet. They whipped around to see a man arrowing toward the gate on his bike. On _Daryl's_ bike, Mason realized. The same one he'd had stolen out on the road. Several of the group gave chase but the man was too far out of range.

"Eugene!" Daryl barked, but Eugene had already raised his gun.

Just one shot was all it took. Man and bike flipped end over end as he lost control, and everyone rushed to form a circle around him.

Daryl seized the man by the front of his shirt. "Where'd you get the bike, you son of a bitch?"

The man spat blood in his face. Eugene aimed his gun at the man's forehead.

"Do it, you pussy!"

Mason touched Eugene's arm, warning him not to, but of course he was already a step ahead.

"But why give you the satisfaction?" he asked in a voice as smooth and cold as ice.

"Lower your gun, prick."

The voice came from somewhere in the grass. A shadow crossed Eugene's face but he didn't move.

"You, with the M16. I said lower your gun. All of you lower your weapons right now."

But nobody did. As one, the group turned their attention to the outside, guns at the ready. Mason looked from side to side but couldn't see anyone. Rick knelt to pick the walkie talkie up from where it lay next to the bike.

"Come on out," he said into it. "Let's talk."

"We're not coming out, but we will talk," the woman replied. There was a pause. And then, "We've got a Carol and a Sasha. I'm thinking that's something you wanna chat about."

Horror iced her veins. Her gaze darted immediately to Abraham, whose expression was nothing short of terrifying.

"Now we're gonna work this out right now," the woman continued. "And it's going to go our way."

Rick's jaw worked, like he was trying hard not to scream. His eyes were dangerous things. "Get him up," he growled.

Eugene and Daryl hefted the bleeding man to his feet, ignoring his grunts of protest. Mason and Michonne pointed their guns at his head.

"We have one of yours," Rick said. "We'll trade."

"I'm listening."

"I just want to talk to Carol and Sasha, make sure they're alright."

Another pause. Then Sasha's voice, low and formidable. "Rick, it's Sasha. We're gonna work this-"

She cut off abruptly, and a second later Carol came on, sounding atypically shaken. "Rick, it's Carol, we're both okay, but-"

"Alright, you have your proof," the woman interrupted. "Let's talk."

"This is the deal, right here," Rick said. "Let them go. You can have your guy back and live."

"Two for one, that's not much of a trade."

Mason's fingers tightened around the gun. She curbed the urge to shoot the biker out of frustration.

"You don't have another choice," Rick replied. "Or you would've done something about it already."

Silence on the other end. Out of the corner of her eye, Mason spotted Abraham pacing back and forth, fuming like a bull.

"Look, I know you're talking it over," Rick went on. "Fair trade. We do this, we all walk away. Do we have a deal?"

A tense pause.

"I'll get back to you."

"No," Abraham snarled. " _NO_!"

"Hey, hey, easy, man," Glenn said. "We're gonna get them back. Just calm down."

" _Don't fucking tell me to calm down_!"

"Shit," Mason hissed. She handed her gun to Eugene and stepped between Glenn and Abraham. "Red. Listen to me. Just-"

" _I'm done listening_! _I'm gonna kill that bitch, there won't be enough of her left for the fucking maggots-_ "

"Hey, _listen_ , dammit!" She stood nose to nose with him, unarmed and unafraid despite the violence in his expression. She'd been here before with him. "We need to play this razor fucking sharp here. We can't go running in all directions with our heads cut off. We cannot risk their lives for that."

He growled and made to move past her.

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Hey! There'll be time to fall apart after, but _we cannot lose it now_ ," she said. "You got that, soldier? There's shit to do."

Abraham's eyes blazed into hers but she refused to look away, and after a moment he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I hear you."

Cautiously she let him go. "We're gonna get them back, okay? And after that, you can turn that bitch into a jigsaw."

He nodded wordlessly. She could see that he didn't fully believe her and that he desperately wanted to.

She smiled a little. "Man, I'm having flashbacks. All we need now is a fucking fire truck to complete the scene."

"Yes, I'll even let you rough me up a bit," Eugene said, coming up behind her. "It'll be fun, like an anniversary."

"Nah, I'm good," Abraham rumbled. "I gotta save that lesson for someone else."

~m~

"Have you thought about it? Talk to me."

It had been an hour since Rick had last corresponded with the woman. Everyone hovered restlessly, taking turns keeping watch or searching for any other surprises. Mason figured they simply needed something to occupy their time. She and Eugene were keeping themselves busy counting their new cache of weapons and ammo, a portion of which they would be giving to the Hilltop as per their agreement.

"You weren't listening," the woman replied. "I said I'd contact you."

Rick cocked his head to the side, his eyes like distant storm clouds. "Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry about that?"

"What do you think?"

"I think we're gonna make the trade. So tell me where."

"We haven't agreed to that."

"Smug bitch," Abraham said. Rick held his hand up to keep him from continuing before he replied.

"We will."

"Oh? I'm not so sure. We'd be taking most of the risk. Not getting much in the way of a reward."

Mason glared in Biker Man's direction. They hadn't learned his name and he refused to communicate except by way of cursing them out.

 _We should just kill you now, you piece of shit,_ she thought.

"Your other option won't work out for you," Rick said.

"We'll take our chances."

Rick gritted his teeth but didn't respond. Meaningfully he eyed Mason and Eugene, and they got up to follow him a ways from the others.

"Whether she agrees or not, we need to be there," he said. "We need to find them and we need to be ready to do what we need to to get Sasha and Carol back."

Mason frowned. "You think we should risk that? If they see us they'll just kill them."

"That's why we only go once we're sure of the situation. Before, Jesus told me that there was a slaughterhouse not far from here. It's the only place where they might have holed up."

"Unless they're just waiting in the woods..."

"I think it's safe to assume that these people would prefer to lay claim to a slaughterhouse than rough it in the woods," Eugene said. "Sounds more like their M.O."

Rick nodded. "I was thinking that, too. Look, Jesus can draw a map. I want you, Mason and Daryl to head out there first. Park in the woods and walk once you get close enough. Scout the area, see if you can get a head count, see if there are any ways to get inside."

"Sure thing, chief."

They took one of the smaller, nondescript cars that were parked around the Saviors' compound. Mason drove while Eugene and Daryl kept their eyes out for any signs of the women, but they saw nothing until the slaughterhouse peeked its grimy face through the trees. Her heart sank a little at the sight of it. It was good-sized, with hardly any usable entrances.

"Can't risk trying to get in," Daryl said.

"But that." Eugene pointed to a big metal door on the side, some kind of loading dock. "It's a blind spot. We can station ourselves there in case she refuses the deal, and we'll be well-hidden even if she does."

"To do what?"

"Do you really think that Rick is going to let her live? Regardless, _I_ could not allow her to go on breathing. We can't have loose ends."

He was right, of course. But Mason didn't understand the doubt in his eyes until later, when the rest of their group appeared, emerging from the trees where before they'd been nothing more than shadows.

What if these were not the only loose ends?

~m~

"Asshole. You there?"

"I'm here."

Everyone stayed still and quiet, lined up along the wall of the slaughterhouse exactly as they had at the Saviors' hideout.

"We've thought about it. We want to make the trade."

"That's good."

"There's a large field with a sign that says 'God is dead' about two miles down I-66. Good visibility in all directions."

"We'll meet you there. Ten minutes."

Mason quivered with urgency. She was tired of waiting, tired of crouching in hiding places and tired of imagining the worst. But no one moved until they all heard, quite clearly, the roar of an engine approaching.

Rick's face pinched with frustration. He ushered everyone into the woods though they remained in sight of the building. A truck pulled up a few minutes later and out hopped five men, who strolled leisurely through the front door. Mason hated them. She hated every last one of them and their arrogant faces and she wanted her people back, she wanted her goddamn people back, she wanted them _home_.

Once the men were inside, Rick murmured, "Everyone get your weapons ready. They'll be coming out soon. We wait until we see Carol and Sasha before we make our move."

They slunk back to the blind spot. Rick and Michonne took point, peeking out every few moments while they waited for the door to open.

But when it finally did, exhaling Carol and Sasha in a cloud of smoke, they were the only ones to emerge. They were mottled with blood and ash, but otherwise unharmed. Relief turned her knees to water. They'd made it out. They'd made it out all on their own.

Abraham swept Sasha into his arms, both of them laughing weakly. Daryl was the first to Carol, touching her chin and asking if she was alright. But the distance in her eyes was chilling, a wasteland of winter. It drained Mason of her relief.

She'd been so concerned that the others couldn't handle the weight, the ones who had never killed outside of self-defense. It hadn't occurred to her that it might weigh on Carol the same.

"Your friends are dead," Rick said to Biker Man. "No one's coming for you. So you might as well talk."

The man didn't respond, too busy staring at the blood on Sasha's hands, at the angry red speckles on Carol's face.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. Was Negan in that building last night, or was he here?"

The man blinked. A slow smile crinkled his features.

"Both. I'm Negan, shithead."

Rick stared at him a moment.

Then he raised his gun and blew the man's head into pieces.

Mason watched the blood gush from his shattered skull, watched it spread in a widening pool of deepest red.

She was glad that he was dead. That wasn't it. It wasn't remorse she felt creeping along her bones.

She didn't recognize the feeling until she looked up to see Eugene looking back at her. It was in _his_ face, reflected back at her.

Disquiet.

Fear.

Sasha and Carol waited outside while the others checked the building for any survivors. But there were only corpses. They loaded everything they could find into the RV, and drove home a caravan of new cars they'd taken from the Saviors. They'd made out like bandits but Mason only felt hollow.

~m~

"Oh, hey, Mason. Everything alright?"

"Yeah... I mean, I'm sorry to bother you so late."

"It's okay. I was just reading anyway. What's up?"

"I'm... I'm ready to talk about Gina now."


	17. Spirits

Hello, guys. I'm sorry, I know it's taken me longer than usual to update, hope you guys are still with me. I won't go into details but it has been a not so fun couple of days, suffice it to say that it's a relief to return to this story and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Now, this one's a bit of a special one for two reasons. One is that it's the title chapter! "Spirits" by The Strumbellas is such a PERFECT Walking Dead song (actually their whole album, "Hope", is incredible) and I just love it. The second reason is that this chapter focuses on the last good day. After this, things are going to get pretty dark for a while, so savor the fluff now! As always, thank you all for your support, and please let me know what you think!

17\. Spirits

 **Mason**

"Ravenclaw. No question."

She took a hit from the blunt and leaned back, peering up at the night sky. She was sitting on the roof with Daryl and Eugene, sharing the weed she'd found in the library what felt like a lifetime ago.

"Actually there is a question," Daryl said and took the blunt from her. "I ain't ever read any of ya'll's nerd books so you're gonna have to fill me in."

"It's the House in Hogwarts that favors wit and learning," Eugene answered. "You know... Riddles and shit."

"Ah, shit, that does sound like you."

"I still am not entirely sure, truth be told. For a while there I thought perhaps Slytherin."

" _Slytherin_?" Mason exclaimed. "You're joking."

"I am not."

"But they're evil! There wasn't a wizard that didn't go bad in that House."

"Firstly, that is not accurate. Regulus Black? Their core values are resourcefulness and cunning, not world domination."

Daryl pointed to him. "That's also you."

Mason made a face. "But then you and I would be rivals."

"No, we'd be star-crossed lovers."

"Romeo and Juliet were idiots."

"We'd be smarter star-crossed lovers."

Daryl passed the blunt to Eugene. "So what am I in this Pigwarts?"

"Hogwarts."

"Whatever."

"Gryffindor. Indisputably."

Mason held up her hand for Daryl to high-five. "Same House, brah! Although I still say there's a part of me that's a Hufflepuff."

Eugene tried unsuccessfully to blow a smoke ring and Daryl snorted. "You suck at that."

Nodding contemplatively, Eugene took another hit and said, "I still think we we should expand the watch points."

Daryl and Mason groaned in unison.

"Man, we've been over this. Even _if_ there was retaliation, we took out, what- thirty guys? Not to mention the assholes Carol and Sasha took care of."

"That doesn't mean we have any idea how many adversaries are waiting in the wings."

"They'd need a shit ton more to fuck with us."

"The Saviors were arrogant, too."

"Man, it ain't arrogance, it's the truth. Whatever happens, we'll handle it. Jesus fuck. You don't know how to get stoned right."

Eugene fell silent, staring pensively off into space. Mason watched him with a growing sense of anxiety. He'd been tense since the execution of the Saviors, calculating for worst case scenarios and revenge attacks, pleading his case to Rick, who had humored him somewhat but who also seemed inclined to agree with Daryl.

As for herself, Mason had no idea what to think. She'd been uneasy since the whole thing, but she'd been unable to tell whether it was something to pay attention to or just the usual post-conflict jitters.

Looking at Eugene's face, however, at the darkness in his eyes, it was all to easy to imagine a storm gathering in the distance.

 **Eugene**

Warily he looked up from his mixing bowl and watched Carol scurry back and forth, setting dishes in the sink, sliding pans into the oven, and altogether avoiding looking at him. She'd been that way all morning and he hadn't found the words yet to broach what he suspected was weighing so heavily on her.

Suddenly, she stopped and heaved a sigh, still without looking at him. "What?"

Apparently he was out of time to think of the right question.

He cleared his throat and said, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

So she was going to play it that way.

"You once confessed to me that the reason you spent so much time in the kitchen was because it made you feel better when you were upset."

"I spent so much time in the kitchen because that's where Ed wanted me."

She spoke through her teeth, but Eugene would not let her anger deter him.

"And you felt safe there," he said. "All I am pointing out is that for three consecutive days I have not seen you do anything except chain smoke and count your rosary beads, and then when you do decide to do something you head straight for the kitchen."

"Will you be getting to a point soon, or can I keep working?"

"I think you are well aware of the point I am trying to make."

She looked at him then with eyes like daggers. "Eugene, stop. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you can't help me."

"Those men deserved to die. What you did was justified."

" _Justified_?"

Her voice broke. Her eyes flickered like dying lights in a haunted house. She swallowed and tried again.

"Justified? Burning people alive was justified?"

"Those men would not have had qualms against burning _us_ alive. You know that."

"That's not the point. I've... I've _killed_ over _twenty people_."

Eugene blinked. He recognized her agony. It was there inside of him, too, a weight he could never quite forget.

"I'm in the double digits now, too," he murmured. "I hesitate to remind you, but a lot of them were people I let die for me. _G_ _ood_ people."

Carol let out a humorless chuckle. "But that's just it," she said. "You changed. You wouldn't do that now, you know you were wrong."

"But I _would_ kill people," he insisted. "I will. To protect my own. That is the price, isn't it."

Despair welled in her eyes. "Yes, it is."

Hesitantly he laid a hand on her shoulder, half-expecting her to chop it off. "You're not a bad person, you're a protector," he said. "You're a mom. A damn sight better than my own, if ever there was a truth."

She flinched. Her expression was complicated- grateful and pained, angry and hopeful. After a moment, she turned away, wiping at her eyes.

"We need to get back to work," she said. "Lots of mouths to feed."

"Yes, ma'am."

 **Mason**

She'd woken up that day with the intention of thinking very seriously about Eugene's concerns. She knew they were valid. They really did trouble her.

But.

On the other hand.

Fuck it.

She was so goddamn _tired_ of worrying about everything. She didn't think she could stand it, not right when she was beginning to think they might finally be on their way to their happily ever after. _Just one day._ One damn day and then she would get back to her regularly scheduled anxiety, cross her heart and hope to die.

Instead of agonizing, she spent the morning with Carl and Judith. They pretended it was a normal, pre-outbreak Saturday by eating cereal and watching a DVD collection of Looney Tunes. While they gorged themselves on Cheerios and cartoon violence, she challenged him to a game of Two Truths and Lie and won with ease.

In exchange for fighting lessons, Eugene had been teaching her how to lie. Now, whenever she truly focused, she was terrifyingly good at it.

This melted seamlessly into lunch with Rick and Michonne, who kept giving each other googly eyes across the table. Mason teased them that they made her want to puke, but her heart fluttered with excitement to finally see them together.

In the afternoon she led a sparring session, but even this she was determined to keep lighthearted, joking around with Eric, cheering exuberantly when Olivia managed to pin her. By the end she was pleased to see that both herself and her class were in high spirits, much higher certainly than they had been since the execution.

She ran laps around the wall. She took a cool-down walk through the community as the afternoon grew late. She listened to her music and she was at peace. Because there was Aaron kissing Eric on their porch swing, Sasha with her head thrown back in laughter at something Abraham said, Gabriel sipping tea with Francine, Tobin bouncing Judith in his arms. God, she loved them, she loved them all.

When the sun began to sink, Rick, Michonne and Abraham set up a line of tables in an open yard. Carol and Eugene brought out plates of food they'd spent all day cooking while everyone gathered at the tables, warming the air with chatter.

Twilight furled around them. Chatter warmed the air. Everyone was scrunched together, elbows bumping, silverware clattering, but nobody complained.

 _It can always be like this,_ Mason thought.

In that moment she believed it.

~m~

Warm with booze, Mason leaned back in her chair and sang smokily to the night. Eugene sat next to her, strumming on the guitar Glenn had given him a few months back. She smiled, remembering that day when he'd taken the guitar, tuned it and started to play seemingly without difficulty.

Noting her disbelief, he'd said, "I dabbled in anything I possibly could."

To which she'd replied, "Stop knowing everything about everything."

Now she watched his fingers move along the frets, lit by the glow of tiki lanterns and string lights, the peace of his closed eyes, and her heart swelled. He was _hers_.

When the song ended, the others hooted their approval, requesting more. But Eugene stood and said, "I will have to regrettably decline, friends. It's time for me to take over watch point."

There were several boos, but the trance was already dissolving. Carl and Enid started clearing the tables. Everyone began dispersing to their houses.

Eugene kissed Mason's forehead. "See you in the morning, love."

"Be safe."

Guitar in hand, she headed for home, humming to herself and stumbling a bit through the dark.

"Hey! Hey, Mason!"

She stopped and looked up to see Rosita on her porch, silhouetted by the light of the open door. There was a bottle in her hand, half-empty. Mason remembered then that she hadn't seen her at dinner with the rest of them.

"What's up, Rosita?"

"You, uh...you wanna have a drink with me?" She giggled a little, but the sound was sharp like fragmented glass. "I could use a girl's night."

"Um. Sure, yeah."

As soon as she stepped inside and saw the red rimming her eyes, she frowned. "What's wrong?"

Rosita just smiled. "Oh...what _isn't_ wrong, _Querida_?"

She led the way upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door behind them. She took a sip from the bottle and then held it out to Mason.

"What is it?"

"Whiskey. Abraham left it."

The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. Mason took a sip to hide her unease.

"I know you know what happened," Rosita went on. "Everyone knows by now. It's fucking..." She shook her head and forced a smile. "Whatever. Come sit with me on the bed. I want to pretend we're seventeen and having a sleepover or something."

So they lay side by side, passing the bottle back and forth and gossiping about old crushes. Mason tried her best to keep the conversation light and meaningless, which wasn't hard when her head felt so airy. She stayed away completely from the topic of Gina. She'd been making progress with Denise to guide her, but she was nowhere near ready to start talking about her with others.

"Jesus," Rosita slurred. "You and I make a habit of falling for assholes. Okay, not Eugene... I mean, he can be an asshole sometimes but he's not, like, an _asshole_ , you know what I'm saying?"

Mason fidgeted uncomfortably. She knew the direction Rosita was headed in but couldn't figure out what to say to get divert the conversation. In the end it didn't matter, because Rosita looked right at her and sighed.

"I spent the past two nights with Spencer," she confessed. "I don't really know why. He's not my type, I don't even enjoy his company. But after Abraham left I couldn't stand sleeping in this goddamn bed, you know? And it was so _quiet_. God, he made so much fucking noise with his snoring, and now..." She shook her head, somehow looking simultaneously heartbroken and disgusted. " _No puedo dormir sin el ruido._ God, _fuck me_."

Mason struggled to find something to say. She might not have felt so awkward if the cause of Rosita's misery hadn't moved into her own house two days ago.

"I'm sorry," she finally murmured, for lack of anything more profound.

Rosita barked a laugh. "You don't have to say that. I know you're Abraham's buddy."

"You're my friend, too."

"Yeah, and so is Sasha. Point is, they're living in your downstairs bedroom while I'm over here and everything is fucked up and I can't stop craving the noise. I need _something._ "

She paused, staring up at the ceiling. Then she peered at Mason.

"And you...are so much like him, you know? You've always reminded me of him."

There was another brief pause, in which Mason tried to make sense of the desperate gleam, the hunger, in her eyes. But before she could, Rosita looked away.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Tonight I just couldn't be alone."

Mason took her hand. "It's okay. I'll stay with you all night if you want."

Rosita nodded slowly. "I fought him when he left. I was trying so hard to hold on. I might've fought harder, but...turns out he never wanted me, not really. 'When I first met you, I thought you were the last woman on Earth.' That's what he said. Turns out I had more in common with that son of a bitch than I thought."

Mason's expression hardened. "He said that?"

"Doesn't matter."

She returned to staring at the ceiling, but not before Mason saw the light dim in her eyes. Rosita had never seemed so defeated, not even after D.C.

Anxiety gnawed a pit in her stomach, and the return of it flooded her with exhaustion.

But, she supposed, it _was_ past midnight. Time to get back to it.

~m~

A crease appeared between Denise's brows. "And she didn't say anything else to you?"

"No," Mason replied, though she couldn't help thinking, _What else would she say?_ Eugene frowned thoughtfully, glancing between the two of them. There was something else on his mind, she could tell.

"And where is she now, do you know?"

"I'm not sure. Last I saw, she was with Spencer. I wouldn't worry so much about this but she just seemed..." Mason trailed off uneasily.

Denise nodded, all business now. "It's okay, I'll find her. I want to talk about this but I can't just corner her here. We'll go out on a run together."

Mason blinked. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I've actually been wanting to go for a while now but the timing was never right. Don't give me that look, Mason. I'm ready. I'll take Daryl with me, too."

It took a concerted effort to stifle the part of her that wanted to keep Denise safe inside the walls. Although Mason had been training her along with the other inexperienced Alexandrians, she'd never actually spent any time outside the community.

"I think that's reasonable. Rosita and Daryl will keep you safe," Eugene said. Mason suspected this was as much for her own benefit as it was Denise's.

Denise nodded. "I know. And while I'm gone, Eugene, I want you to talk to Abraham."

"Hold up, why?"

"Because they were close. Setting aside the romantic aspect, they went through a lot of shit together, and it may not be tomorrow or next week or next month, but at some point they are going to need some form of reconciliation. In a community this small, it's a necessity."

"If you won't do it, I will," Mason offered, balling her hands into fists.

"Oh no you won't," Denise replied. "Giving him a black eye isn't going to help the situation. Besides, you promised Maggie you'd work in the garden today."

"I suppose this would give me an opportunity to discuss with him my recent brainchild concerning munitions," Eugene said, glancing at Mason. "Get the lay of the land at that machine shop you and I saw the other day."

"Fine," she growled. "But if you get a chance, don't be afraid to kick him in the nuts."

 **Eugene**

"You about ready to spill the pintos on what the hell we're doing here?"

He ignored Abraham for a moment and continued to peer around the dusty shop. As he'd expected, the machinery hadn't been touched in a good while but it was still in workable condition. A fierce excitement welled in him.

"We're gonna manufacture bullets here," he finally said. "I've been chewing the cud on this for the past few days. The Hilltop's dry and our supply is finite. Not only are bullets vital for defense but per the law of supply and demand a full cartridge is now the coin of the land."

Abraham stared at him, clearly not expecting this. "Making bullets from scratch?"

"Spent casings, but the innards are all us. And by us I mean me."

"And you think you can do that. Here. With just this."

Eugene nodded. "Here. With just this," he said firmly. "The digs of course will require a thorough scrubbing, and we'll have to scare up a hella ton of lead. But, yes. I most definitely think I can do this."

Abraham grinned. "That my friend is some damn fine genuine _outside-the-box_ thinking!"

"No, no. Someone would've thought it up eventually."

 _They are going to need some form of reconciliation._

He paused, clearing his throat, and then continued clumsily, "And speaking of eventualities... When are you going to apologize to Rosita?"

Abraham blinked. "What?"

"Considering the ineptitude with which you handled the break up, I think an apology is required."

"Considering that this isn't any of your damn business, I think you'd have better luck convincing a gator to go vegan."

"Rosita seemed to think it was Mason's business."

"Well, it sure as shit isn't."

"I might have agreed with you, but Mason was worried-"

"Oh, that mother hen never stops worrying."

"-and Denise shared her concern."

Abraham's eyes flashed. " _Look_. What happened between me and Rosita is _our_ business, or at least it should have been."

"We wouldn't have made it ours at all if you had been honest with her from the start."

"That is rich as chocolate cheesecake coming from you, Mr. Scientist. Remind me, how many people died for your fictional PhD?"

Eugene drew back, stung. His hands balled into fists. "Yeah, they died. I think of that every day. At least I can say that I never made the woman who was in love with me feel as though she was worthless."

Unlike that day by the fire truck, he saw the punch coming. He ducked and barreled into Abraham, driving him back into the wall. A fist came down brutally on his shoulder blade, forcing him to lose his grip. As he staggered back, he dodged another blow, eyeing each of Abraham's movements warily.

"Calm down, Red."

" _Don't fucking tell me what to do_. You better back the fuck out of my business right quick or your ass is about to become a mangled rendition of living."

"Abraham, I am just telling you straight-"

"Yeah? Tell it to yourself. I'm going home now. You find your own way back."

He shoved Eugene out of the way and stalked toward the exit, ignoring the grunt of pain as a piece of machinery jabbed Eugene's spine. He might've gone after Abraham right then but his own anger stopped himself; he knew if he went without leashing it, they'd just end up fighting.

He let a few minutes pass while he breathed, slowly and deliberately, trying to stifle the coals in his belly. Then he stepped outside.

Something hard rapped against the back of his head, and the world went black.

 **Mason**

When Maggie came out bearing glasses of lemonade, Mason straightened up with a gusty sigh. "Hell yes. Big sis for the win." She and Glenn had been toiling in the garden for hours, and though it was only about forty-odd degrees they'd worked up quite a sweat.

Maggie smiled and, with visible strain, lowered herself down to the ground. Glenn reached out to help her but she waved him away.

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice was pinched with discomfort.

Mason's stomach clenched. Like the rest of them Maggie was skinnier from the past few lean months, but for days now she'd looked quite pale, as well. Her baby bump was noticeable but small, and though the whole community made sure she received the most food, Mason still wondered if she was getting enough nutrients.

"You mind comin' by later?" Maggie asked. "I was hoping you could play a little music for the baby."

"Dear lord, no," Glenn said. "Do you know what's on her iPod? Nickelback."

"Hey, one song!" Mason retorted. "Besides, Little Peanut likes death metal anyway."

He groaned. "Great."

They sat and listened while Maggie delegated what still needed done to prepare the garden for spring, but she didn't stay very long. After a few minutes she confessed she needed to lay down. Glenn offered to walk her back to the house but she insisted she was fine on her own.

"How is she feeling?" Mason asked quietly, watching her go.

"She hasn't slept well since all of this with the Hilltop and the Saviors," Glenn replied. "I think it's just catching up to her. I know I said it before, but thank you for talking to her."

Mason nodded. During the planning for the execution Maggie had been adamant about going herself. She'd insisted that since she'd struck up the deal with the Hilltop she should help see it through. But she was five months pregnant and finally starting to look it. Like Glenn, Mason had been terrified at the thought of Maggie out there with her belly exposed, her movements sluggish from fatigue, her breathing labored from pressure. Eventually she'd been able to convince Maggie that it was riskier taking her with them, though it had been a long night of arguing.

"She's worried about a retaliation, isn't she?" Mason asked now.

"Yes."

"Eugene, too."

Glenn nodded. "I don't know what to think. Whatever it is, we'll handle it, but I can't help feeling like something's wrong."

 **Eugene**

When he awoke, it was to the ragged discomfort of being dragged across the ground. He blinked several times to clear his vision, noting that two men were dragging him along, five others followed behind, and that the one in the lead was carrying a very familiar crossbow. He realized with a jolt that these must have been some of the people who had ambushed Daryl all those months ago.

None of them had noticed yet that he was awake. He would have to act quickly if he was going to escape. Summoning up what strength he could, he ground his heels into the soil and yanked his body upward. The sudden movement brought on a burst of pain in his head, so vicious that his vision disappeared briefly. While he struggled not to puke, the men were able to grab him again and force him back to the ground.

"Oh no," the man with the crossbow said. "You're not going anywhere. What's your name, friend?"

"I'm not your friend." He meant it to come out more forcefully, but it was a difficult task teetering on the edge of passing out.

"You're right, we're not friends, but there's no reason we can't be amenable." The man pressed the crossbow to Eugene's head. "So what's your name?"

Gritting his teeth, he said, "Eugene."

The man nodded. "That's what I thought. See, we know a little bit about your group but not as much as we'd like. We _really_ want to get to know you people. So now, here it is: my name is Dwight, and I can be a nice guy when I want to be. For example, if you take me to wherever it is you hang your hat, I'll let you live."

It probably wasn't the wisest response, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Fuck you."

Dwight smiled a little. "Definitely not friends, then. Alright, tie his hands. We'll take him to-"

Voices cut him off, raised in agitation, close enough to tell that it was two women and a man.

Close enough for Eugene to recognize them.

His blood ran cold. His eyes flickered to Dwight, who was peering in the direction of the shouting with grim excitement.

Only a second passed and then Dwight burst into action, ordering the others to hoist Eugene to his feet. Every inch of him screamed to fight them, but he knew even if he managed to break free there was no way he could take all eight of them out, not with his hands tied, not with his head spinning. So, burning with frustration, he let them push him through the woods, closer and closer to the voices until they finally came upon the train tracks.

As soon as Eugene saw them- Daryl, Rosita, Denise, locked in some kind of heated discussion- he lurched forward and cried, " _Heads up_!"

Dwight cursed and raised the crossbow, just as they turned around. Eugene saw it happen with feverish clarity, the arrow cut through the air and embed itself in Denise's eye.

"No!" he shouted.

She stood there a moment longer, one hand raising tremulously as though to touch her face, and then she collapsed. Daryl and Rosita moved to catch her, but Dwight emerged from the trees and trained the crossbow on them. The other men followed, guns raised. They dragged Eugene with them and forced him to his knees.

Dwight blinked in astonishment at the sight of Daryl, whose expression was one of blackest hate.

"Well, hell."

Eugene needed no further confirmation that this had indeed been the man who'd screwed Daryl over. But there was only so much room in him now for revelations. His eyes were on Denise, on the blood leaking from her eye, and on the back of her head, which remained curiously unstained...

"You got something you wanna say to me?" Dwight taunted. "Wanna clear the air? Step up on that high horse?"

Daryl remained silent, quivering with rage. Dwight smiled.

"That's right. You don't talk much." He lofted the crossbow admiringly. "Still getting the hang of her. Kicks like a bitch, but-"

"I shoulda done it," Daryl growled.

"What was that? Seriously, I didn't catch what you said."

"I shoulda killed you."

Dwight held his gaze for a moment. "Yeah, you probably should've. So here we are. Kinda begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this but she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. Like I said, it kicks like a bitch."

Rage boiled in Eugene's blood, and it took all his willpower not to do something stupid. His gaze flickered back and forth, taking in everything, every little detail that might get them out of this, and that's when he saw it. The flash of red off to the right. He glanced over as discreetly as he could and caught Abraham looking back at him, hiding behind a cluster of oil drums rusting on the side of the road. Immediately his mind began to race.

"Look, this isn't how we like to start business arrangements," Dwight continued, oblivious. "But you pricks kinda set the tone, didn't you?"

"What do you want?" Rosita demanded. Her voice was flat but her eyes betrayed her fury.

"I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't catch your name. I'm D. Or Dwight, you can call me either. _So_?"

Her jaw twitched. "Rosita. What do you want?"

"Well, Rosita. It's not what I want. It's what you and Daryl are going to do. You're going to let us into your little complex- it looks like it's just beautiful in there- and then you're going to let us take whatever and whoever we want. Or we blow Eugene's brains out, and then yours, and then Daryl's. I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die."

Taking a deep breath, Eugene said, "You wanna kill someone, why don't you start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels. He's a first class asshole and he deserves it so much more than us three."

Rosita and Daryl gaped at him, clearly wondering what the hell he was up to, but he didn't offer any explanation. After a moment, Dwight nodded and two men broke off from the group to investigate.

Eugene waited a moment until everyone was properly distracted, all the while keeping up a mantra of curses in his head.

Then he twisted around and bit deep into Dwight's groin.

Immediately Dwight screamed, drowning out the sound of gunshots as Abraham attacked from behind. Eugene held on tight, somehow managing to feel both deeply disgusted and violently satisfied. He clamped down harder, relishing the agony in Dwight's shriek.

 _Definitely not friends now, are we, you son of a bitch?_

Finally, with a desperate shove, Dwight managed to free himself. He aimed the crossbow at Eugene and might've pulled the trigger, but at that moment the walkers came, flooding into the firefight in clusters of four or five. With a furious snarl, Dwight backed up.

Keeping his head low, Eugene made his way over to where Denise lay and leaned his ear over her face.

He couldn't hear anything over the gunfire, but very faintly he felt her breath warm his cheek.

 _She was alive._

Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through his side. He cried out, blood blossoming beneath his shirt in a shade of red so lurid it made his head swim.

At the same time, Dwight hollered for his men to retreat and the survivors took off back the way they had come, only four of them now. The other four lay strewn along the tracks and the ditch at the side of the road, staring sightlessly up at the walkers stumbling over them.

Daryl lunged after them, apparently fully prepared to finish the job himself.

"Daryl, stop!" Eugene called, wincing at the pain in his side.

He drew to a halt with a reluctance that disappeared the moment he saw the blood running down Eugene's flank.

" _Shit_."

He and Rosita knelt next to Eugene to check his wound.

"Cut me loose. Cut me loose," Eugene said, tugging desperately at the rope around his wrists.

"We need to bind your-"

" _Cut me loose, dammit_! Denise is alive!"

Rosita and Daryl startled.

"What-"

"I can save her, but I need my hands, _now_!"

They didn't hesitate after that, though they remained unconvinced until Denise shuddered, fingers twitching, and let out a rasping breath.

"Holy shit-"

"What do we do?"

"Get me something to cover her other eye," Eugene ordered. "If that one moves then this one will, too. They need to stay still. Abraham, help me carry her."

Abraham held a hand up. "Pump your brakes, doc. We'll carry her, you just worry about keeping her breathing."

When her left eye was properly bound, they lifted her as gently as possible and carried her down the tracks toward home.

 **Mason**

It was a long fucking night.

Once she'd ascertained that Eugene was going to be okay- the bullet had just grazed him, thankfully, and he didn't have a concussion as she feared he might have- there was barely time to feel relieved. After that her time was devoted to worrying over Denise, providing help as Eugene performed the surgery to remove the arrow and close the wound, and then hours spent monitoring her breathing and blood supply.

She hadn't woken but her heart rate was steadier than it had been when they'd brought her in. At this point all they could do was wait.

It was almost morning now. Eugene slouched, exhausted, in a chair next to Denise. His eyes were closed. Mason thought for a while that he was sleeping until he spoke.

"We need to prepare for an attack."

Mason swallowed hard. "Yes. Rick's holding a meeting with the council."

They'd filled her in on the day's events after they'd done all they could do for Denise. Rosita, Daryl and Abraham, all gathered around, telling the story in pieces. There had been a brief moment of levity when they recounted how Eugene had saved the day by sinking his teeth into another man's crotch.

"You know how to bite a dick, Eugene," Abraham had said and they'd all giggled hysterically, mostly because they _were_ hysterical. The day's events and its implications had left them all rather wobbly.

Now there was no doubting it, of course. Eugene had been right. Maggie, too. And deep down, Mason couldn't deny that she'd known this was coming all along. When had anything ever gone as they'd planned?

She opened her mouth to say as much, but at that moment the door swung open. Enid rushed inside, eyes wide with panic.

"There's something wrong with Maggie."


	18. Atonement

Hey, guys. Thank you so much for the reviews, you guys just make my days brighter. For real, much love to ya'll xoxo! So I'm finally back to writing again and I slammed this chapter out pretty quick because I'm antsy to get to the next stage in this series (I'm sure you all know who's coming up next). The chapter title is "Atonement" by The Kickdrums, a fucking amazing song that has a real "time-is-running-out" vibe that's just perfect for this episode. As always, let me know what you think, I am pleased to say that I will likely have the next chapter out very soon!

18\. Atonement

 **Mason**

"What time did she leave?" Rick demanded, hurrying toward the gate.

Struggling to keep up, Tobin said, "Sometime in the night, I never heard her go but she made a bunch of food, she took her pack. I mean, she's been thinking about this for a while now."

Mason and Morgan followed them, wearing identical expressions of stress. It seemed they just weren't going to catch a break any time soon.

That morning, after Enid brought Maggie to the infirmary, Aaron had stopped by with a message from Sasha and Abraham, who were on watch. Apparently Daryl had gone AWOL and left with the intention of tracking down Dwight and his men. Michonne, Glenn and Rosita had gone to stop him.

Not long after that, Tobin revealed to Rick the note Carol had left on her bedside table- that she'd decided to leave for good because she no longer felt comfortable killing.

Daryl, Mason was not surprised about. But Carol...that came out of left field. She was still coming to terms with it. But when Eugene heard the news there was not enough shock on his face. Beneath his obvious distress there was also a deep understanding, as though he'd suspected that this was a possibility.

"Did she leave on foot?" Rick pressed.

"I don't know," Tobin said helplessly.

"Rick, I've been on since midnight and I never saw anything," Sasha said.

"Front's been quiet since the others left," Abraham said. "But you have to see this."

He pointed through the gate, toward the left side of the road. Two cars sat parked, seemingly haphazardly, both of them run through with spikes to catch walkers, but there should have been three. Rick cursed under his breath.

"You can barely see between the houses from up top," Abraham continued. "Especially at night."

"She's smart enough to cover her tracks," Mason said. "Probably left during the shift change."

Rick nodded grimly. "You're right."

Morgan held out his hand. "The note. Can I see it?"

Tobin handed it over. Morgan examined it silently for a moment, his expression hardening with determination. When he handed back the note, he nodded to Rick.

"Don't worry. I'll find her."

"I'm coming with you," Rick growled.

"Rick, you can't," Mason said. He turned to glare at her but she held her ground. "I'm sorry, but Maggie needs to get to a doctor. With the others gone, anyone who can come with us needs to."

Rick's jaw worked furiously, like he was chewing on something bitter. Eventually he dipped his head. "Get everyone together that you can. We'll need to leave enough behind in case of an attack, so..."

Mason nodded. "Old salts for the trip, home gets greater numbers. I'm on it."

~m~

When Eugene tried to board the RV, Rick stepped in front of him. "Whoa, whoa, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

"Hey, it's a long trip, and you're just getting over-"

"It's a superficial graze, nothing more," Eugene said. "Proteins are binding, plus I need to be there to keep an eye on Maggie. I may not be a real doctor but Denise shared with me a few tips that may come in handy in case she takes a turn."

Rick shook his head, glancing at Mason for help. She just shrugged.

"I already tried talking him out of it."

"Give him an inch, he'll take a mile," Abraham added, brushing past them to load the RV with gas canisters.

"I'm only asking for twenty-three, give or take depending on the route," Eugene said. "Eric and Olivia are keeping an eye on Denise now, and in any case all we can do is wait for her to wake up. There is no reason for me not to come with you."

Rick sighed. "Alright, get on. You and Sasha handle navigation. Mason, help me load the ammo."

Once everything was on board, Mason took a head count- it was her, Rick, Eugene, Aaron, Abraham, Sasha and Carl who made up the expedition team. Maggie was in the back laying on the bed, asleep and frightfully pale. Eugene had examined her earlier as well as he could and Mason found herself remembering his diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor, certainly no obstetrician. I believe it may be one of two things- placental abruption or an ectopic pregnancy- but without the right equipment we're really just fishing in the dark. Bottom line, she needs a medical professional and she needs it quickly."

 _We'll get her there. She'll be okay._

Mason kept thinking this loud enough to drown out the foreboding gathering strength inside her.

 **Alpha**

The arrogant pricks have a show in store for the Alexandrians. Some guy they're going to "make an example of". It's a strong tactic, but not one I think is going to dissuade Mason and her people.

No, they're going to need something a little stronger to knock them from their pedestal. Negan himself is apparently going to pop in for a hello. They must have really pissed him off.

It occurred to me while obtaining this intel that I could intervene, somehow. Gunk up the works to give the Alexandrians another chance to attack, but... I am certain if that were to happen they'd all be slaughtered, and then who would I use for pawns?

They need to be scared. They need to see just how frightening Negan's empire is. Alexandria has had it great for five months and it's made them cocky. They need to remember what it was like to drag themselves along the ground, the lowest of the low, just like their weeks courting death on the road.

They need to be brought to their knees.

 **Mason**

When the RV slowed to a stop, miles out from their destination, everyone tensed.

"Enemy close," Abraham said while they all scrunched behind him to get a look.

A group of eight men stood in the road, all of them wielding high powered guns. There were three trucks parked behind them, blocking off the ditches so there was no place for the RV to cut through. At the foot of the man in the lead lay a body. Mason wondered who it was, and if it was even alive.

"We doing this?" Abraham asked.

"No," Rick said.

Silently they all grabbed their guns and followed him outside. Abraham stalked to the rear of the RV to keep watch for any surprise attacks. The rest of them faced the men.

The man in the lead nodded to the possibly dead body. "He's someone who was with a whole lot of someones who didn't listen."

"We can make a deal," Rick said. "Right here, right now."

"That's right! We can," the man replied, grinning. "Give us all your stuff. We'll probably have to kill one of you, that's just the way it is, but then we can start moving forward on business. All you have to do is listen."

Rick pretended to consider and then said, "Yeah. That deal's not gonna work for us. Fact is, I was actually going to ask for all of _your_ stuff, only I'm thinking I don't have to kill any of you. Well. Any _more_ of you."

Mason smirked.

The man didn't respond. It was clear that this answer didn't surprise him, but he did look irritated by it. As if on cue, another man stepped forward, shaking a can of spray paint, and then drew a big red X across the body's torso.

"Sorry," the lead man said. "My deal is the only deal. We don't negotiate."

Rick nodded and signaled to the group to board the RV. They did so slowly, keeping their eyes on the men so that it was clear they weren't retreating.

"Okay, friend," the man said as they walked away. "Plenty of ways to get to where you're going."

Rick, bringing up the rear, paused in the doorway of the RV and looked back at the Saviors. "You wanna make today your last day on Earth?"

"No," the man said pleasantly. "But that is a good thing to bring up. Think about it. What if it's the last day on Earth for you? For someone you love? Maybe you should be extra nice to those people in that RV. Cuz you never know what might happen. Be kind to each other."

Rick nodded, his expression pinched in one of disdain. "You do the same."

Once they were all inside, the man waved them a cheerful good-bye and delivered a brutal kick to the body's flank. It was definitely alive; it rolled over, curling into a ball in a feeble attempt to protect itself.

Mason and Abraham shared a grim look as they drove away.

~m~

Eugene tapped contemplatively on the map. "Logrun Road's a straight shot."

"We want visibility," Sasha reminded him.

He spent another moment examining the map and then pointed to a squigglier line. "There. You got it on Shelton. Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain. No bum rush from the boogeyman, we'll see him from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third, but we'll get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens."

Sasha squinted at him. "You're being serious, right?"

"Yes, Miss Williams, as coronary thrombosis."

Smiling a little, Mason summoned Abraham and Rick. "We got a route."

After their run-in with the Saviors, they'd driven a mile and then parked to pick a new course. Aaron and Carl sat with Maggie while they talked, making sure she had enough water and blankets.

Abraham examined the map and then nodded. "Alright. We keep moving."

"Oh christ, I'm getting D.C. flashbacks," Mason teased, and he ruffled her hair before taking the wheel.

But they didn't make it far.

"Bitch nuts," Abraham said and pulled to a stop.

A caravan of five cars and sixteen men blocked the way. None of them were the same as the group before, but no one questioned if they were Saviors.

"We making our stand?" Sasha asked.

Carl nodded. "Yeah. We end it."

But Rick shook his head slowly. "No, not now. They've been waiting. They're ready. With one of us behind the wheel that's six on sixteen. We're gonna play it our way, how we want it."

So slowly they backed up, and as they did one of the men fired his gun into the air. Some kind of signal, Mason guessed.

Eugene brushed his arm against hers, lining up their scars. Briefly she wrapped her pinky finger around his and drew strength from his presence.

Everything would be okay. They were together. They would handle this together.

~m~

"How are we on gas?" Rick asked, crouched between Abraham and Sasha up front.

"Half a tank," Abraham replied. "I pulled some more cans before we left, but..."

"Those men weren't the same ones who blocked the road the first time," Sasha said and Abraham nodded.

"Same outfit. Different soldiers."

"They have numbers," Mason said.

"Yeah," Rick replied. "But we keep driving. We get Maggie to the Hilltop no matter what."

"If we have to shove each and every one of them up their own asses," Abraham said. A moment later, his expression hardened and the RV squealed to a halt.

Mason looked out the window, expecting to see more men, and was startled instead by the sight of a band of walkers tied across the road like some demented fence.

"We can't go through it," Rick said. "Can't risk the RV. We'll have to clear it."

Abraham stayed behind the wheel while the rest of the group exited the RV, in case they had to make a quick getaway. Mason and Sasha flanked the others, keeping their eyes to the woods while they approached the walkers.

Abruptly, Carl pulled to a halt. "Dad," he said, and his voice was such that it sent a chill through Mason's bones. "Look."

He pointed to one of the walkers on the left, and it took her a moment to see what had put that horrified look on his face.

In the side of its head, a little hole had been notched. One single dreadlock hung from it.

Michonne's.

The color drained from Rick's face. "No..." he whispered.

Sasha gasped. "That's Daryl's," she said, and pointed down the row to another walker. Through its chest had been driven an arrow.

Mason staggered forward and snatched the arrow free, feeling the world tilt sickeningly.

 _Fuck. Fuck._

So they had Daryl and Michonne. Probably Rosita and Glenn, too. Who else did they have? Had they found Carol, Morgan? Had they ambushed the entire community back home? Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

Dimly she was aware that Eugene had his arms around her, propping her up. "It's okay," he murmured. "We'll get them back."

But would they? What if they were already dead?

Suddenly a flurry of gunshots hailed around them, cracking against the pavement. Eugene curled over her protectively.

"Get back to the RV!" Rick shouted.

Gunfire drove them back, stirring up clouds of dust at their feet. Mason and Eugene stayed out just long enough to cover Rick while he axed through the walker gate and then they all fled back to safety.

~m~

"Best theory wins," Eugene said, low enough so that no one else heard.

Mason stared down at the arrow in her hands. "They were shooting at our feet," she rasped. "They blocked the road but they weren't trying to stop us. They want us in this direction."

He nodded. "A warning."

"Or a promise."

Their eyes locked for a moment, mirroring each other's gaunt fear. The RV wheezed desperately.

"What's that sound?" Sasha asked.

"Undercarriage could've caught a bullet," Eugene answered without drawing his gaze from Mason's. "Could be transmission, could be nothing. But we can't stop to figure it out."

Sasha sighed tightly. "Barton Road takes us north, but they gotta know we wanna go north."

Eugene got up to examine the map with her. "Meadows," he said after a moment. "Could take us east a piece, but we can get back on track on Mayhew."

"Okay, but we're down to a third of a tank. We can top off at the next stop, but no refills after that."

Before Rick could respond, Aaron appeared from the back of the RV, his eyes brimming with anxiety. "She's burning up."

Mason struggled to fill her lungs with enough air. For just a moment, Rick hung his head and she couldn't bear his desolate expression. She looked away, digging her nails into her palms.

"Rick."

Abraham's dark tone told them all what they would see before they saw it, but Mason's blood still went cold when she looked out the windshield.

Thirty or so men stood in the middle of the road, some of them perched in truck beds, some of them leaning against car hoods. All of them were posed with casual menace and all of them had guns. Mason didn't recognize a single face. Most likely these were different men from the previous batch, and if they had an army like this to spare...

 _Jesus fuck._

"Go back," Rick whispered.

"Where?" Abraham replied.

The certainty of being herded, of being ensnared by an ever-tightening noose, suffocated her.

They were being neatly and cleanly steered into a trap.

~m~

No one was surprised when they stopped a few minutes later. It was not men this time but a wall of lumber just past a low overpass, so large that there was no hope of driving around it.

Eugene frowned at the tire tracks crisscrossing the road. "These tracks would indicate that they have some bigass toys and capabilities."

"What it indicates is that we are neck-deep up shit creek with our mouths wide open," Abraham replied.

"Essentially, yes."

A scream interrupted them, knifing through the air. They whipped around in time to see a body drop from the overpass. It jolted to a stop a few feet from the ground and dangled there from a chain, jerking and twitching as its life drained away. With dismay, Mason recognized the bright red X on the man's torso.

Aaron raised his gun but Eugene grabbed his arm. "Don't."

"I can try and break the chain."

"It won't work."

"I can try!"

Rick shook his head and growled, "It won't work. And we need the bullets."

Behind them, a low crackling started up and grew in intensity. Tongues of flame traveled quickly up the lumber, filling the air with heat. And from the other side, a voice.

"You're treating your people good, right? Like it was your last day on Earth? Or maybe one of theirs? You better go. It's gonna get hot. You go get where you're going."

"Go," Rick snarled. "Get back inside. Now."

They hurried back to the RV, all of them truly afraid now, all of them convinced that they had royally fucked up. Mason's heart beat an unbearable meter in her throat. She kept her eyes on the silhouette of the man's body, now ominously still against the violent glow of the fire. Wondered who he had been and why he had died and if he was nothing more than a vision into her future.

~m~

Mason squeezed Maggie's hand reassuringly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. We're all about to sit down and discuss our next move."

She spoke with a confidence she did not feel, but thanks to Eugene she was able to fake it flawlessly. Maggie blinked up at her with trusting eyes and it was almost enough to break her, but she forced herself to smile.

"Everything's going to be okay," she continued. "These douchebags are nothing more than a bump in the road."

"I know, Mason," Maggie croaked. "I believe in you. I believe in all of us."

"This group is going to make it. We've earned our happy ending a million times over."

Maggie moved her head limply in what could have been a nod. "I've been thinking about names... I wanted to out of spite. You know... a fuck you to whatever's wrong with me. My baby's going to live. And if it's a girl I want her name to be Grace."

The breath caught in Mason's throat. That had been Beth's middle name. Bethany Grace.

This time she smiled a genuine smile. "I love it."

"I thought you might."

Gently, Mason leaned down to kiss Maggie's clammy forehead. "I'll be back to let you know the plan."

~m~

"There are two more routes north from here."

Sasha brushed her fingers over the map. The sun was going down, tinting the crinkled page the same color as the fire from before.

"They're probably waiting for us right now," Aaron said, and no one had a response to that.

No one except Eugene, who had remained curiously silent up until then.

"No," he said. "They're ahead of us. Probably behind us. But they're not waiting on _us_ per se. They're waiting on this rust bucket."

Mason stilled. She tried to meet his eyes but he wouldn't look at her.

"They don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket," he continued. "And the sun sets soon."

Everyone looked at each other, each of their faces brightening with the ghost of hope. All except Mason, who cast a hard look at Eugene. After a moment, he sighed.

"Mason..."

She shook her head. "No."

"It's the only way-"

" _No_."

"He's right," Rick said. "It'll work."

"No, shut up! Why does it have to be him?"

Rick reached a hand out soothingly. "Mason, no one said that, but-"

"We don't have a lot of time," Eugene cut in, eyeing her solemnly. "You guys get ready to move Maggie. There should be supplies in the closet with which to make a stretcher. Mason and I are going to discuss this."

When the others had left them alone, Mason said, "I don't know why it has to be you."

"Practically speaking, I am the one most qualified to fix this POS if anything goes wrong. And, in all honesty, I don't know if I would provide the help I might need to out there. I am not feeling one hundred percent after last night."

"All the more reason for you to come with us!"

"It was my idea, sunshine. It's only fair I should take the risk."

"Fine, then I'll stay, too."

Gently, Eugene reached out to take her hand. " _No_ ," he said. "Maggie needs all the protection she can get. And you know that."

Tears welled in her eyes. She clutched his hands so tight it must have hurt, but he didn't complain.

"You...you can't leave me," she whispered. "You can't."

"I have no intention of it."

"I mean it. I swear to god...I will be so fucking mad at you, Eugene Porter."

He smiled a little. "Lord above if I piss you off, Mason Reynolds."

~m~

Rick came around the back of the RV and rattled the empty gas canister. "That's the last of it."

Night had fallen and the world was entrenched in shadow. The others were inside, arranging Maggie on her makeshift stretcher and making sure she was hydrated. They were only a few miles out from the Hilltop, but so many things could happen.

"If you see a car, try to siphon gas, other than that you keep moving," Rick growled. "You need to stay safe."

"Yes, sir. I'll have them thinking we're playing their game," Eugene replied. "All phases, level after level, move after move. I'll keep them spun."

Mason clenched and unclenched her fists and worried her lip with her teeth. It was just _wrong_ , sending him out into danger alone. She knew he was better prepared now, he had been trained and he knew how to handle himself, but the urge to protect him had never left, even after all this time, and now it was screaming at her.

"And, Rick? I got something for you."

Mason looked up. Eugene took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Rick.

"It's a recipe," he said, "and it ain't gazpacho."

Her throat tightened.

"How to build bullets 101. Abraham can show you where, just in case."

Just in case. Just in case.

With a glance in her direction, Rick said, "He won't have to. You can show me yourself, after all this is over."

"Yes, sir."

Rick laid a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you. For everything. We're lucky you're here."

Abraham appeared from the RV. "She's ready."

He traded places with Rick, glaring firmly, almost angrily, at Eugene. "You go steady on the pedal," he ordered. "You don't make that thing gulp. You don't stop unless you have to. You play this thing steady as fucking clockwork."

Eugene peered at him for a moment. "How come you never let me drive the truck?"

Abraham sighed. "I didn't think you could do it. I was wrong. You were a survivor, even back then. We just didn't know it."

With a smile, he held out his hand. Eugene looked at it for a moment and then pulled Abraham in for a hug instead, each of them holding on tightly. Mason swallowed around the lump in her throat, a little piece of her cracking down the middle, a piece of her she knew would not heal until they were all reunited again.

Then Abraham left and it was just her and Eugene. He smiled sadly, apologetically, and she reached out to touch his face.

"I love you, you nerd," she murmured.

He laughed and kissed her, soft and passionate, filling her veins with helium. When he pulled away, she swayed a little.

"I love you, too, May," he said. Then he wrapped his pinky finger around hers. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

When the others brought Maggie out, the first thing she noticed was that she had donned a hoodie so baggy it hung off her like a sheet.

The second thing she noticed was that, even in the dark, her skin was frightfully pale.

 _She'll be okay. We all will._

Maggie shivered a little, but her eyes were steady as she looked at Eugene. "Thank you," she rasped.

He nodded and told her that everything would be okay, and then Rick and Abraham were carrying her into the woods, Aaron and Sasha and Carl flanking them, and it was time to go but Mason didn't know if she could bear it.

Eugene stood by the RV, smiling encouragingly at her, and she felt the fault line in her heart crack wider as she walked away.

Then she was stepping into the darkness of the woods and letting the trees swallow him from sight.

 **Eugene**

He wanted so badly to believe that the feeling in his gut was wrong. That the foreboding that had been growing there, insidious as a cancer, was nothing more than a product of fear. The aftermath of Eugene the Coward.

But the road was dark and lonely, and the RV so, so quiet without everyone else in it, and he felt sick with dread.

Something was wrong. Something was going to go wrong.

 _If it's with me, that would be okay,_ he thought. And it would be. So long as the others were safe. So long as Maggie made it to a doctor. So long as Mason was alive.

But he was getting ahead of himself. He was being dramatic. _Of course_ he was apprehensive. It wasn't like the situation was ideal.

"Everything will be okay," he whispered to himself.

Goddammit, if he could only believe it.

It was just then that, as he turned a sharp corner, the headlights illuminated a grouping of cars parked across the road. They were scattered from the trees on one side to the trees on the other, so there was no way through. He saw no men but that didn't mean they weren't out there, watching.

 _Just so long as they're here,_ he thought. Just so long as the others didn't run into trouble.

Carefully he began to back up, turning the corner in reverse.

A second later, he slammed on the brakes.

The motorcycles had appeared out of nowhere, apparently waiting just for this moment. They made a thick band across the road, cutting off any chance of escape. The men on them were triumphant, self-assured, prickling with automatic weapons. He couldn't drive through them. The RV wouldn't make it.

Eugene sighed shakily, but when he smiled it was fierce. The others were safe. They were going to make it to the Hilltop. And whatever happened to him, it was going to be okay.

A gun sounded from outside, just one sharp report.

"Why don't you come on out?" one of the men hollered. "Nice and slow, alright?"

He grabbed his machete and his gun, and he thought of Mason. Everything was okay. She existed. Everything was okay.

"Come on, Eugene. We know you're alone in there. It wouldn't be wise to make a last stand. You're not a cowboy."

Eugene froze.

They knew he was alone.

 _They knew he was alone_.

"Alright, I'm gonna count to three. And if you're not out of there by the time I'm done, you will never get a chance to see your people again. Wouldn't want that, would ya? Don't you want to see how this all plays out?"

The plan had failed. They knew it was a ruse. What if they had the others already? What if the others were...

"One."

He shut his eyes tight. _No._ They were alive, they had to be.

"Two. C'mon, Eugene, you're letting your people down. Thr-"

He opened the door. Twenty men greeted him with smiles and guns, all of them so smug it made his blood boil. One of them stepped forward, apparently the one who had spoken, and grinned like he was welcoming a friend into his home.

"Well, hello. Didn't know if you'd cooperate. In fact, I'm still not sure, because that look on your face makes me think you wanna fight us which is just...oh man, so fucking hilarious. Let me just tell you right now: that is a dumbass fucking idea. So give us your weapons and let us move forward amicably."

Eugene glared at him silently, trying to calculate if there was any way to make it out of this. But in each scenario, he died. And now that he knew the others were no longer safe, a sacrifice on his end no longer made sense. He had to stay alive. To warn them or help them, whatever they needed.

"What's it gonna be, Eugene?" the man said.

Slowly, burning with resentment, Eugene set his weapons on the ground.

"'Atta boy!" the man said. "Now what we're gonna do is confiscate that hunk of junk you drove up in and trundle on down to a little soiree with a friend of ours. And your people, too, we are _very_ excited to get to know them."

A cluster of Saviors broke off from the rest of the group and trailed into the RV.

"But you," the man continued and his grin turned sly. Feral. "You tried to _play_ us. Tried to trick us like you thought we were stupid. Well, let me tell you something."

He leaned closer until he was nose to nose with Eugene.

"We are always one step ahead of you. We are not stupid. And we do not suffer the fools who think otherwise."

Eugene didn't see the blow coming, and for a moment the pain was delayed. There was just one abrupt explosion of light in his left eye and when his vision cleared he was on the ground.

Then he felt it, a deep throbbing in his skull that radiated down to his shoulder. Blood trickled from a cut on his temple, left there from the gun the man had hit him with.

Dizzily he blinked up at him, at the grin that had become something hideous.

"It's time for a little correction, Eugene. You have to learn. Or maybe you'll just be a lesson for someone else."

He kicked him in the side, and this time the pain was immediate. Tears blinded him and he nearly collapsed, but caught himself at the last second.

The man had managed to pinpoint the bullet wound from yesterday. The stitches had torn wide open; he could feel the warm spread of blood beneath his shirt.

"Hot _damn_. That was a happy accident."

He kicked him again, this time in the shoulder, and knocked Eugene to the ground. Choking on dirt, Eugene tried to scramble to his feet but the man caught him by the front of his shirt and shook his head.

"If you fight us," he said, "then we will sit you down in front of your people and make you choose which of them dies."

Horror made his limbs go numb. "Take me..." he whispered. "It can be me."

"Originally that wasn't the plan, Eugene. It's more fun to let Negan choose who dies. He has a way of making it into a game."

He jarred his knee sharply into Eugene's stomach and let him drop.

"But sometimes I get a little carried away."

 **Mason**

She and Carl took point, cutting down walkers so that the others could carry Maggie smoothly through the trees.

"Aaron, please," Maggie croaked. "Just let me walk."

"Just relax, hon," he replied. "Only a few more miles."

The darkness was misty and quiet. Mason kept her senses alert, but her mind was elsewhere. She wondered where Eugene was, if he'd seen any sign of the Saviors, if he was safe. Her heart fluttered uncomfortably at the thought that he was out there alone, but she couldn't let herself give in to fear. He was alright. Everything was going to be alright.

"Dad," Carl said after a while. "I heard what you said to Maggie, back when we were leaving. We _can_ do anything. We'll do anything we need to do. We have, and we will. That's what we do. That's who we are."

She might have been bolstered by his words, but at that moment the hair raised on the back of her neck.

 _Mason._

The voice was unmistakably Beth's, nothing more than a whisper in her ear, but the urgency in it put a sudden knot in her stomach.

A beat later, someone whistled in the trees off to their right.

Everyone jarred to a halt.

On their left, someone else whistled, and then two others took it up, and then five, and it was _all around them_. Suddenly the air felt ragged in Mason's lungs.

"Go, _go_!" Rick said and they all began to run, but they couldn't get away from the whistling. In fact, it seemed to be getting louder. Mason's heart thrummed, faster and faster with each step, panic turning her thoughts into a mad rush, and suddenly they were bursting into a clearing.

Car lights flicked on, blinding them with the sudden brilliance, and the whistling grew deafening. When her eyes adjusted to the light, her veins went cold with horror.

Surrounding them on all sides were the Saviors, and there were easily fifty or more, all of them sporting weapons. Not just guns. Pickaxes. Saws. Tire irons. There were men with knuckledusters and men with chains wrapped around their fists. Behind them were parked a myriad of cars end to end, reinforcing the wall around them. There was only the small opening where they had come through, but already it was clogged with men who did not look prepared to move an inch.

Mason drew her fire iron and stood protectively in front of Maggie, though she knew it was was no way out. They would fight, and they would die.

Then her eyes fell on the RV, parked at an angle between the trees, and her heart stopped.

 _Eugene._

Frantically she looked around but saw no sign of him. Had he escaped? Had they somehow only managed to capture the RV?

A man stepped forward out of the crowd, the same man from the very first group that had stopped them. He smiled pleasantly.

"Good. You made it. Welcome to where you're going."

NOTE: Also, just a real quick thing about Gina/Alpha. I have really big plans for her in the future, but not for a little while yet. Just so you all don't think I'm abandoning that plot thread. Anyway, prepare for the darkness, friends!


	19. Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

Alright, my lovelies. Welcome to the first of the dark chapters! (For real, just fair warning, this chapter is pretty graphic in some parts. I mean, I'm sure you were expecting it, but still.) Today's title is "Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea" a very gloomy, ominous song by MISSIO, and the sound of it just, omg, fits this episode. As always, thank you guys for your reviews, you are the sweetest. (Btw, I will be including a note at the end, nothing life-changing, it just fits better after the chapter, you know so I don't give anything away lol.) Anyway, let me know what you think.

19\. Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

"We'll take your weapons." The man took a gun from his belt and pointed it at Rick. "Now."

Rick stared at him, the panic so clear on his face it sent a shard through Mason's chest. "We-we can talk about it-"

"We're done talking. Time to listen."

A few of the men took this as the cue to strip them of their weapons. It took everything in her to hold still while a man twice her size patted her down roughly. She quivered with rage and terror, desperate to do _something_.

But there was nothing to be done.

Once their weapons were gone they stood huddled together around Maggie, ragtag and small in the middle of a storm of men.

"Okay," the man said. "Let's get her down and get you all on her knees."

A group of men moved forward to remove Maggie from the stretcher. Mason stepped between them, bristling.

"Hold up," Abraham snarled. "We got it."

The man waved a hand disdainfully. "Sure. Sure."

Gently, Aaron and Abraham helped Maggie from the stretcher where she crouched on her knees, shaking like a leaf. She was ghostly, shining with sweat, but Mason was suddenly grateful for the baggy hoodie tented around her. It was so large it was impossible to tell that she was pregnant.

"Alright, Tyler," the man said. "Bring him out."

The man named Tyler- who Mason thought looked like the epitome of a white boy douchebag- broke off from the rest and disappeared inside the RV. When he reappeared a moment later, it was with Eugene.

Mason let out a strangled sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. She staggered forward but Sasha grabbed her arm.

His face was covered in blood and bruises, one eye closed all the way up. His nose was broken and the left side of his shirt clung to his waist, soaked in red. He was so weak that if Tyler hadn't been holding him up he would have collapsed.

Mason watched as Tyler dragged him roughly to their group and dropped him to his knees. She pulled away from Sasha and knelt next to him.

"Oh my god, Eugene," she whispered shakily. "What the fuck did they do to you?"

He looked up at her, bleary and bloodied, and whispered something she didn't quite catch.

"What?"

Slowly he held up one hand and flashed a signal at her, one that made her go still.

 _Fake them out._

It was one they didn't use often, one they'd come up with when Eugene was still learning fighting tactics. Warily she looked around, though she knew no one else would know what it meant.

The man wasn't watching them, however. He was staring pointedly at Rick.

"On your knees, friend. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

The look on Rick's face made Mason feel as though she were drowning. He had only ever looked so helpless, so afraid, once, when Carl had lost his eye.

After a moment in which the blood beat insistently loud in her ears, he lowered himself to his knees. None of the others knelt until he did. Mason stayed where she was, huddled next to Eugene.

The man nodded approvingly. "Good, good. Now, Dwight! Bring out the others."

"You got it, Simon."

A skinny man with a burnt face opened the door to one of the vans and began dragging people out of it, people she recognized with an awful jolt. Michonne, Rosita, Daryl... The breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, who looked almost as pale as Maggie and whose left side was spattered with blood.

Glenn was last, and the moment he saw Maggie he lurched toward her with a wail.

"No! _No_!"

"Shut _up_!" Dwight snapped and forced him to the ground.

The man- Simon- clapped his hands together. "Alright! Got a full boat. Now let's meet the man."

He reached over to knock on the RV door. A moment later it opened and out stepped a man dressed in a black leather jacket and a red scarf. His lips were drawn in a careless grin that made her think he smiled a lot, but likely at someone else's expense, and over one shoulder he held a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

"We pissing out pants yet? Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close."

He strolled into the eye of the storm, eyeing each of the Alexandrians in their turn.

"Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

Simon pointed to Rick. "It's this one. He's the guy."

With a contemplative nod, Negan bent down until he was level with Rick's face. "Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan. And I have to say, I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people? _You killed more of my people_. Not. Cool. _Not_ cool. You have no fucking idea how not cool that shit is. But. I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly."

He straightened up, and when he spoke again his voice was so low Mason had to strain to hear him.

"You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes."

Her stomach clenched. She wished desperately for her fire poker, her gun, but in vain. Even if she had them, it would be the same as if she didn't.

"You see, Rick," Negan continued, "everything you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. The new world order is this, and it's really fucking simple, so even if you're stupid- which, you may very well be- you can understand it. So here it is: give me your shit, or I will kill you."

He paused, apparently for dramatic effect, and grinned at each of them. "Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now."

Mason seethed. Her hands balled into fists.

"Mason," Eugene whispered, his voice thick with pain.

She stilled, but her blood continued to roil.

"You have shit, you give it to me, that's your job. Now I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow... But swallow it, you most certainly fucking will. You ruled the roost, you built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But the word is out. You are _not_ safe, not even close. In fact, you are _pegged_. More pegged if you don't do what I want, and what I want is half your shit, and if that's too much you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out eventually.

"This is your life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So. Someone knocks on your door? You let us in. We _own_ that door. You try to stop us, and we will knock it down. Understand?"

Everyone was silent, staring at him with varying degrees of fear and fury. He cocked his head to the side.

"You sorry fucks didn't really think you'd get through this without being punished, did you?" he said. "I don't want to kill you people. Just wanna make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me and you can't do that if you're dead, now can you? I'm not growing a garden."

He shook his head as though the thought was ridiculous. Mason's mind spun wildly, remembering yesterday, how she'd had her hands in the dirt, how it had been simple and peaceful with Glenn, how Maggie had brought them lemonade, and how far away that seemed now.

 _It will never be like that again._

And she knew it was true. Something was going to change tonight, something irreversible.

"But," Negan continued, "you _killed_ my _people_. A whole fucking lot of them- more than I'm comfortable with, honestly. And for that? For that you're gonna pay.

"So now. I'm gonna beat the living shit out of one of you."

Mason trembled, sucking in a breath, and her eyes darted immediately to Eugene. He was looking back at her, echoing her terror. She ached to reach out, to take his hand in hers, but then she remembered.

Fake them out.

Suddenly she was unwilling to reveal her relationship with him to these people. She was certain in that moment that they would see it as a weakness, a chink at which to aim the sword. So, though it killed her to do so, though it ripped at the deepest part of her, she turned away from him and stared stonily ahead.

Carelessly, Negan swung his bat, bringing it to rest just under Rick's chin. "This?" he said. "This is Lucille. And she. Is. _Awesome_. And all this, this whole game, is just to see who gets the honor."

He whipped the bat away, ripping a chunk from Rick's skin. Rick barely seemed to notice. His eyes were on his people, wide with shock, like he couldn't quite believe this was happening.

Negan marched along the line of Alexandrians, examining their faces. When it came his turn, Abraham sat up straighter and stared Negan down unblinkingly.

Negan smiled. "Huh."

Mason ground her teeth, quivering as the bloodlust rose within her. It had been dormant for so long, but it didn't feel as though it had diminished.

When he came to her, she met his gaze, hoping to convey without words what she intended to do to him.

His eyes narrowed. "Why the face, doll?" He tapped her cheek lightly with the bat and she felt Eugene's desperate tension next to her like an electric current. Carefully, at her side, she made the signal for _quiet_ and hoped he would have enough sense to heed it.

Then Negan stopped in front of Maggie, and Mason stiffened.

"Jee- _zus_. You look like _shit_. I should just put you out of your misery right now-"

" _NO_!"

Glenn scrambled forward, screaming, but he never made it to Negan. Three men caught him and dragged him back to his place while Negan watched. The friendly grin had disappeared from his face, leaving behind a cold, remorselessness.

"Nope," he said. "Get back in line."

Glenn let out a strangled cry. " _Don't_! _Don't touch her_!"

"Are you... Are you trying to give me orders?" Negan said. "Alright, listen. Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free, it's an emotional moment, I get it."

 _you son of a bitch you fucking son of a bitch I'm going to kill you I'm fucking going to kill you_

Her thoughts were so loud Mason was surprised no one else could hear them.

Rick was quaking at this point. His eyes no longer belonged to him. They belonged to a man broken by hubris.

Negan turned his grin on those eyes. "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit."

Then he paused, a curious look crossing his face. He looked at Rick. Then at Carl. Mason felt her pulse quicken at the dawning of apprehension on his face.

"That's your kid, ain't it?" He pointed the bat at Carl and chuckled. "Oh, yes. This is definitely your kid-"

" _Just s_ _top this_!" Rick snarled, surprising everyone except Negan.

" _Hey_!"

Suddenly the bat was back under Rick's chin, and though Negan continued to smile it was more unhinged than before.

"Do not make me kill the little future serial killer, _don't make it easy on me_. I gotta choose _someone_. Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order."

He began strolling up and down the line again, whistling that goddamn whistle and swinging the bat lazily. A minute of this and it felt like an eternity, it felt like her nerves being dragged across fucking razors.

Finally he sighed. "I simply cannot decide. So I guess I'll have to employ a different technique. It's an oldie, but goddamn is it a goodie."

He paused theatrically and then pointed the bat at Rick.

"Eenie."

Mason's blood chilled, her heart taking off at a new beat.

He moved the bat to Maggie.

"Meenie."

Then to Abraham.

"Miney."

Then to Michonne.

"Mo."

Rosita.

"Catch..."

Daryl.

"...a tiger..."

Glenn.

"...by..."

Sasha.

"...his toe."

Aaron.

"If..."

Carl.

"...he..."

Mason.

"...hollers..."

Eugene.

"...let him go."

He paused there, long enough that Mason's entire body went numb, long enough that the blind rage filling her nearly set her mouth to frothing.

 _try it motherfucker i dare you i FUCKING DARE YOU JUST TRY IT_

But at the last moment he turned away and pointed the bat back at Rick.

"My mother...told me...to pick...the very...best...one. And you...are..."

He moved the bat silently for a moment, skipping around the line, grinning that disgusting grin.

Then

the bat stopped on Abraham.

"...it."

No.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and _then_ we'll start."

 _NO_.

There was no shock on Abraham's face. No fear. His whole body screamed _defiant_. Mason noticed, with a brutal twist of her gut, that he held two fingers out in Sasha's direction. Like a silent signal of their own.

And her heart tore so deep it felt like physical pain.

"You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doing that."

The bat came down on Abraham's head and he collapsed. Blood ran down his face in gruesome rivers, but after a moment he struggled back up.

"Look at that!" Negan crowed. "Taking it like a _champ_!"

Abraham's eyes flashed, that same fire Mason had seen time and time again, that had bolstered her, enraged her, kept her laughing, kept her moving.

"Suck...my...nuts," he hissed and Sasha let out a broken sob.

Negan hit him again, but this time Abraham did not get up. The bat came down again and again, spraying blood into the air, and Mason felt the whole world become lurid and unfamiliar around her. She thought the trees, the ground, the very air was shuddering, until she realized it was just her, disintegrating into tears.

At her side, Eugene was bent double with sobs, his arms wrapped around his chest like that would do something. Like that would stop the pain.

When Negan finally stopped, the bat was dripping gore. There was nothing left of Abraham's head. Just the mangled, broken bits of who he used to be. She couldn't bear to look at his body. She thought she might be sick.

"Did you hear that? He said, 'Suck my nuts'!" Negan paused to laugh, holding the bat aloft. "Ho-lee _fuck_! Look at my dirty girl!"

The tears felt like fire on her face. Her blood, her bones, the air in her lungs. It all burned.

She was going to kill him.

She was going to

fucking

kill

him.

Grinning from ear to ear, Negan poked the bat in front of Rosita's face, splattering her with blood.

"Take a look, sweetheart."

Rosita leaned away, shuddering with each breath like they were knives. The agony in her expression brought a fresh wave of tears to Mason's eyes.

"Oh, shit," Negan said. "Were you together? That sucks. But if you were, you should know, there was a reason for all this. Red- and hell, he was, is, and _will ever be_ Red- he just took one, or six or seven for the team! So take. A damn. Look."

The tears turned to coals in her skull. She took a convulsive breath and it felt like swallowing flames.

Rosita continued to lean away, staring at Abraham's body.

The smile disappeared from Negan's face.

" _Take a damn look_!"

Out of nowhere, Daryl lurched to his feet and punched Negan hard across the face.

" _NO_!" Mason screamed, and before she could stop herself she was lunging forward, ignoring Eugene and Carl who tried to hold her back.

The Saviors were well-trained. She only barely managed to grab Negan by the front of his jacket before they were on her, knocking her to the ground next to Daryl, who struggled under Dwight.

Negan stepped back, rubbing at his jaw, and Mason eyed him with pure hate.

 _i will kill you i will fucking kill you_

He seemed to read this in her eyes, because his lips stretched in a ghoulish approximation of a smile. He touched the bat to her cheek, smearing her face with blood.

"Lookie here, folks," he said. "These two little bulldogs don't know how to listen. Well, let me reiterate. That? That is a fucking no-no. The whole thing. Not one bit of that shit flies here. Alright, now sit them up. Facing their people, so they can see their audience."

Mason jerked herself up, yanking away from the Saviors. Daryl snarled as Dwight shoved him to his knees beside her.

Her eyes found Eugene. Carl held him back but he was still outstretched, still reaching for her, his face unbearable with anguish.

 _I'm sorry,_ she wanted to tell him. _I love you. I love you._

Instead she shook her head, pleading with him to stay put. She had to keep him safe. He had to stay safe.

"Now I already told you people: first one's free. Then what did I say? I said I will _shut that shit down_ , no exceptions. I don't know what kind of lying-ass pussies you guys have been dealing with, but I'm a man of my word. First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So now, which of these two are going to drive that lesson home?"

" _No_ ," Eugene rasped, and panic surged through her with sickening force. "Take me-"

Negan pointed the bat at him. "Shut. The fuck. Up."

"Please-"

"If you say another goddamn word, I will kill them both."

Eugene fell silent but his eyes pierced hers. His agony was too much to hold but she didn't look away.

She could feel Negan behind her, sizing her and Daryl up, whistling, swinging his bat.

But all that mattered was the blue of Eugene's eyes. She existed there. She always would.

"Wait." Suddenly Negan stopped pacing. "This isn't right. I don't feel good about any of this, not one fucking bit."

Mason held her breath.

"Ah," he said. "I think I have a solution."

And he bashed the bat into Glenn's skull.

There were several screams, Maggie's the loudest. Mason drew a breath as sharp as flint but couldn't make a sound. Her horror was such that she didn't feel capable of the most basic functions. Still, somehow, the tears trailed feverishly down her cheeks.

"M-ma-mm-"

Somehow Glenn had survived the first hit. He sat up, swaying wildly, but Mason was not relieved.

Part of his head was dented in a way that made her stomach turn over, his face and hair dripping blood, his left eye bulging from its socket.

"Buddy, you still there?" Negan said, leaning down to examine the damage. "Jesus, you're trying to speak! Your fucking eyeball just popped out, dude, holy fucking shit!"

"Mm-ma...Mmaggie, I-I'll find you."

 _No._

Mason curled in on herself, digging her nails into the skin of her arms until they bled. The sobs ripped themselves from her chest, hard enough that she felt dizzy.

It was her fault.

She'd killed him.

It

was

 _her_

 _fault_.

"Oh. I can see this is hard on you," Negan said, his face a mask of perfect remorse. "I'm sorry about that. I truly am. But I did say no exceptions."

He swung the bat again, knocking Glenn to the ground, and kept swinging. Blood misted the air. Maggie crumpled, digging her fingers in the dirt, her wails raising goosebumps on Mason's arms.

"Lucille is _thirsty tonight_! She's a fucking vampire bat!"

 _my fault it was my fault i killed him oh my god i fucking killed him_

When it was over, when Negan had finally decided that Glenn was dead enough for him, he stepped back. A piece of flesh hung raggedly from the barbed wire. He eyed each of their horrified faces with triumph.

"What? Was the joke that bad?"

"I'm gonna kill you."

Rick's voice was a hollow rasp but everyone heard. Negan hunkered down in front of him.

"You wanna repeat that?"

Though he remained unsteady, like the strength had been ripped from his very core, Rick stared him down.

"Not today. Not tomorrow. But I'm gonna kill you."

"Huh." Negan's smile, that one of delighted cruelty, opened a black hole in her stomach. "Simon, what did he have?"

"He had a hatchet."

Negan snorted. "A _hatchet_?"

"An axe," Simon amended.

"Sure. Yeah. Bring me his axe."

Simon handed the weapon over and Negan tucked it into his belt before seizing Rick by the collar of his jacket.

"I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me."

Mason let out a breathless cry as he dragged Rick- still stumbling on hands and knees- and tossed him in the RV. A moment later, they drove off into the darkness.

~m~

Morning had arisen by the time the RV trundled back to the clearing. The tears had not stopped since they'd left, and Mason eyes were puffy and stinging. She hadn't moved from her spot next to Daryl. She hadn't looked up to see Eugene, or any of them. How could she face them now, when they knew? When they'd seen it?

She had killed one of their own. She was supposed to _protect_ them.

When the door opened, Negan dragged Rick out just as unceremoniously as he had dragged him away. He was covered from head to toe in walker blood but otherwise appeared unharmed, at least physically.

"Rick, do you even know what that trip was about?"

Rick cast his gaze around without answering, touching on each face. Making sure they were all still there.

"Speak when you're spoken to."

His lips twitched in the hint of a snarl. "Okay. Okay."

Negan's eyes glinted. "That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that, I wanted you to understand. But you're still looking at me that same fucking way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work. So. Do I give you another chance?"

"Yeah," Rick replied. "Just...just..." But whatever he was trying to say, he was unable to get out.

"Okay," Negan said. "I'll play. And here it is, the grand prize game."

Mason's stomach rolled.

"What you do next decide's whether or not this becomes everyone's _last_ crap day or just another another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads, people. Level with their noses so that if you have to fire it'll be a real show."

Someone dragged her into a more upright position. She let them. She didn't know where all the fight had gone but it had left her drained and numb. She felt the muzzle of the gun prod the back of her head.

And she couldn't help it. Her eyes darted to Eugene at last, and when she saw him looking back at her it burned along the fault line in her chest.

"Kid." Negan motioned to Carl. "Right up here with your dear old dad."

Eugene tensed, like he wanted to hold him back, but Carl shook his head. He got up and stood in front of Negan without a wink of fear.

"You a southpaw, kid?"

"Am I a what?"

"You a lefty?"

"No."

"Good," Negan said, and proceeded to take off his belt and wrap it around Carl's left arm.

A prickle of dread crept a greasy finger up her spine.

"Alright, kid. Down on the ground next to daddy, arms out like you're under arrest, got it? Spread them wings. Now Simon, you got a pen?"

"Yes, sir."

" _Excellent_."

Simon tossed him a Sharpie, with which Negan drew a thick black line across Carl's forearm. Sweat dewed on Mason's forehead. Rick's mouth was open, taking in deep gusts of air like he couldn't get enough into his lungs.

"Please..." he said. "Please don't."

Negan's eyes sparkled. "Me? I'm not doing shit. Rick, take your _hatchet_ and cut your boy's arm off, right on that line."

The ground dropped out from under her. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Now, I know, I know, you're gonna have to process that for a second. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then the kid dies, then the people back home die, and then you. Eventually. I'll keep you breathing for a few years just so you can stew on it."

Michonne reached out pleadingly. "You don't have to do this," she said. "We understand. We-"

" _You_ understand, sure," Negan said. "I don't know if Rick does. Now, I'm gonna need a clean cut and I know this is a fucked up thing to ask but it's gonna need to be like a salami slice. Give us something to fold over."

Rick began to whimper at this point, a sound so wretched it filled her veins with lead.

"Please...it can be me... _please_."

"No, Rick. I'm sorry, but this is the only way. Pick up the axe, chop chop! Or do you really want to see these people die? Because you will. You will see every ugly thing."

The whimpers built feverishly upon one another until he was wailing, trailing tears and blood and saliva. His eyes were wild, those of a dog beaten to the brink.

Negan rolled his eyes like a long-suffering parent. "Jesus fucking christ, are you gonna make me count? Alright, Rick. You win. I am counting. _Three_!"

Rick shook his head, crying out what Mason thought was pleading, but the words were indistinguishable.

" _Two_!"

"Dad," Carl whispered. There were tears in his eyes but his voice didn't shake. "Just do it. It's okay."

Mason curled into a ball. There was so much grief inside her that if felt like bleeding.

" _One_!"

The wails became a single piercing howl, his unimaginable pain crashing through the air like surging birds.

He raised the axe.

At the last minute, Negan caught his wrist.

The howl trailed back into whimpers.

"You work for me," Negan said. "You provide for me. You _belong_ to me. Say it."

"Provide for you..." Rick mumbled. "...b-belong to you..."

"Hell fucking _yes_!" Negan leapt to his feet. " _That_ is the look I wanted to see! Aw, sweet _Jesus,_ it has been a productive fucking day! You all should be proud and I hope for all your sakes that you get it now. Things have changed. What you had going for you? That's all over."

Mason closed her eyes.

"Now, Dwight! Take these two and load them up."

Her eyes flashed open in time to see Dwight grab Daryl, and a second later another man seized her arms, lifting her to her feet.

She was too shocked to say anything, too full of guilt and agony to resist.

But her eyes fluttered to Eugene, drinking in every inch of him as they were torn apart.

Tears streamed down his face as the man dragged her away, his hands balled into fists, his shoulders trembling with barely suppressed rage.

She made the symbol for _quiet_ and the trembling stilled.

Before she was gone, he lifted his hands and made a sign that choked her with sorrow.

They didn't have a signal for May. But they had one for spring. It was as close as he could get. And after a moment he held it to his chest, right over where she had lain countless times, listening to his heart beating.

They didn't have a signal for love either but she read it clear as day.

The man shoved her inelegantly into the van with Daryl and slammed the doors shut, leaving them in darkness. A moment later the engine roared to life and carted them away.

NOTE: So some of you may be thinking, "Hey, muse, you lying asshole, you said S7 was going to be different." I promise you, friends, it is, BUT as much as I hated this episode (and I do. I watched it while writing this chapter and I fucking SOBBED as hard as I did the first time) I do believe there was a good reason for Abraham and Glenn's deaths plot wise, Abraham being the Soldier and Glenn being the Moral Compass. Losing them both was an effective way to completely _gut_ Mason and her family. I apologize if you were expecting something different, I hope you're not salty about it lol. I promise you I have many dark (hopefully also awesome?) things planned, there are just a few little plot threads I am going to adopt and then things are going to diverge considerably. Anyway, much love to you guys, I hope to be posting a short interim chapter here shortly!


	20. The Scientist

Welp, lovelies. This is a bit later that it was supposed to be. I wanted to post it around the same time as the last chapter but FFnet's been giving me some issues. This interim is essentially an epilogue to the last chapter- Eugene's galvanization as a counterpoint to Mason's shattering- and it just fits so much better as a standalone. The title is "The Scientist"- originally by Coldplay, but the cover by Corinne Bailey Rae is perfect for this episode. It actually sounds remarkably like the piano score used at the end of S7E1, just so beautiful and sad. Anyway, I am currently working on the next chapter so I hope to have it up soon. Much love, you guys.

20\. Interim: The Scientist

 **Eugene**

"I like them. They've got guts. Not little bitches like somebody I know."

Negan looked pointedly at Rick, who just sat there, staring after the van as it drove off.

"They're mine now."

 _You son of a bitch._

"You still wanna try something- 'not today, not tomorrow'- I will cut pieces off of... What the hell were their names?"

"Uh, Daryl and Mason, I believe," Simon answered.

"Right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and Mason and put them on your doorstep- or! Better yet! I will bring them to you, and you can do it for me."

 _You fucking son of a bitch._

"Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry fucks!" Negan laughed, apparently revitalized by all the carnage. "I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find for me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week, until then, ta ta."

He sauntered away without another word and the wall of Saviors around them finally broke apart, loading into their trucks and chatting away as if they were just leaving a good party.

One of them stopped to take pictures of Abraham and Glenn, and it was all Eugene could do not to jump up and break his legs.

He had never felt this kind of rage before. It smoldered in his belly like an agony he could not soothe, and grew and grew until his body was hot with it. He remembered once Mason describing her bloodlust. He thought maybe this was it.

The men drove away, leaving them alone. A broken shell of the family they had been before, surrounded now only by the dust of the morning.

 **Mason**

The tears would not stop. She felt dizzy, as though the very essence of her being was draining out through her eyes. If it was, she didn't think she could've summoned up an ounce of concern.

Daryl's arms were around her, and hers around him. It was the only comfort they could offer each other, and it wasn't enough but what else were they going to do? The van drove them somewhere, away from their family, away from their shattered edges. She wanted to be with them, and at the same time she couldn't bear the thought.

Abraham.

Her brother, best friend, instigator, motivator. The biggest cheerleader she and Eugene had ever had, who fought with her and for her, who made her laugh, who understood the fury she could not bridle.

Gone.

And Glenn.

Vouching for her when she joined them at the prison. Pushing her to keep going after it fell. Hugging her after the battle for Alexandria. Asking if she was alright. Holding her back when she felt like doing something stupid. Reminding her that she was still a person underneath it all.

Gone.

And it was her fault.

God, she could barely fucking think it and yet it wouldn't stop screaming at her. She couldn't stop seeing it, playing over and over behind her eyes. Her head spun with exhaustion and she hoped, she prayed, she _begged,_ for unconsciousness.

But it never came. And she was wide awake when the van finally stopped and the doors opened to reveal her new reality.

 **Eugene**

Maggie was the first to move, staggering to her feet on legs so tremulous it was a wonder they held her up at all.

Everyone blinked, unsure now of what to do. All of them were gutted.

"Maggie," Rick finally rasped. "You need to sit down."

"No."

"We need to get you to the Hilltop-"

"You need to go get ready."

The fire inside of Eugene quieted, as though it were listening, but did not weaken by a single flame.

Rick blinked. "For what?"

"To fight them."

The words were thick with tears and anguish. It seemed to take everything in her just to spit them out, but no one doubted the ferocity in them.

When Rick spoke, his voice wavered. "They have Daryl. They have Mason. They have an _army_ -"

"Go home. Take everybody with you. I can get there by myself."

"You can barely stand up-"

"I need to go. _You_ need to go to Alexandria."

Her voice was unrecognizable. Like the old Maggie had died. Eugene closed his eyes but the tears fell anyway.

"I can make it now, I need you to go back, I can't have you out here, I can't have you all out here anymore, I need you to go back."

Sasha stood up.

"I'm taking her," she said. "I'm gonna get her there."

Her voice was not her own anymore, either. Both of them had been stripped of some vital part of them, and they were never getting it back.

Maggie didn't look at Sasha. She didn't look anywhere but at Glenn's body.

"I'm taking him with me," she said. Eugene curled his hands into fists to keep from sobbing.

"Please let us help you," Rick said. "He's our...he's our family, too."

After a moment, Maggie nodded and collapsed next to Glenn's body. Aaron and Carl held her while she cried. Slowly Eugene got to his feet.

Rosita and Sasha sat across from each other over Abraham, their hands entwined together on his cooling body. Loss had made their previous rivalry trivial. Their tears they now shared, and their hollowness.

Eugene helped them carry his body to the truck, and halfway there began shuddering with the sobs he could no longer contain.

Abraham was gone. The man who had protected him and believed in him, forgiven him and taught him to be the man he'd always wanted to be. His best friend. His brother.

Aaron, Rick and Carl set Glenn into the truck next to Abraham. Glenn's compassion, his determination, his fortitude and kindness. All of it was just...gone.

Everyone boarded the RV like the dead. Like walkers. Eugene sat at the table where he'd been just hours ago with Mason. A lifetime ago. Carl and Aaron sat with him, Rosita disappearing to the back like she couldn't stand for them to see her tears any longer.

He sat staring at his hands for a long time, the blood and dirt spooling maps along his fingers.

Negan had effectively shattered his family, but in taking Mason and Daryl he had also stirred a war inside of Eugene.

He would have to work alone. For the safety of his family. That was alright. That didn't matter.

What mattered was Negan, that heinous piece of shit. Not a hair on his head, not a bone in his body, was safe anymore. It didn't matter that he had an army. None of them were safe, either.

They had Mason.

He would kill

every

fucking

one of them

to get to her.


	21. Flip

Alright, guys, I'm back with another chapter, and pretty excited about it. There is a little reveal in this one about one of the characters that I hope doesn't come across as too out of nowhere, but I do promise that it plays in pretty significantly later on. Also, today's title is "Flip" by Glass Animals, and. omg this fucking song. This fucking song is PERFECTION. When it comes to this show, when it comes to Mason, when it comes to Eugene's evolution as a character, just. UGH THIS SONG. But I digress lol As always THANK YOU GUYS for the reviews, I know I say it every time but you guys really are the best. I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter!

21\. Flip

 **Mason**

There was just one thin sliver of light leaking through the gap between the door and the floor. The rest was darkness and cement, the smell of musty basements and other bodies that had once inhabited this place. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since she and Daryl had been thrown in here, but her eyes had adjusted enough the she could discern the shape of him and nothing else. The cell was maybe ten feet by five. Nothing in it but them.

She was beginning to notice a pattern to things. In about ten minutes, Dwight would come by with food, and to blast them with that song from hell. It would play for a good two hours. After that he would return and the cycle would repeat.

They were never allowed outside, or at least they hadn't been so far. They hadn't given in to the food yet and she was desperately hungry, but even if she hadn't felt perpetually sick to her stomach she would've refused to eat it.

It occurred to her, often, that she could just let herself starve in this room. It wouldn't be terribly hard. But every time she began to convince herself to do so she would always remember Eugene's face, the symbol he had held to his chest. She couldn't betray him like that.

She couldn't leave Daryl alone in this place, either. They were in this together, however long that may be.

He sat across from her, curled up against the wall just as she was. The first thing the Saviors had done after sewing up Daryl's gunshot wound was strip them both of their clothes. They hadn't been given new ones. They'd gotten used to the sight of each other naked but that didn't make it any less demeaning.

When Dwight stopped by with their meal there were two men with him, which wasn't unusual. One of them was Tyler and the other was a veritable mountain of a man who never smiled. They aimed their guns into the cell as Dwight tossed the food in, but it wasn't really necessary. Neither Mason nor Daryl moved.

It didn't escape her notice the way Tyler eyed her, like she was there for his viewing pleasure. She furled into a tighter ball, trying to hide as much of herself as she could.

The door closed with the harsh, conclusive knock of a lock sliding home. The stench of dog food wafted toward her and she gagged. Daryl blinked at her probingly. She shook her head.

Right on cue, the song started.

Mason screwed her eyes shut and pressed her hands to her ears, but the sound still bled through.

" _We're on easy street,_ _and it feels so sweet..._ "

If she'd had a gun, she would've blown her fucking brains out.

Stifling a scream, she sunk to the floor.

 **Eugene**

He trailed in wearily through the gate, hefting two packs over his shoulders. They were heavy with the supplies he'd spent all day gathering, though there was nothing in them he intended on using. It galled him that all his efforts would go to serve the Saviors. He hated himself for doing it. But he had to stick to the plan.

Spencer nodded as he passed but Eugene ignored him. Ever since they'd returned three days ago and revealed their new relationship with the Saviors, Spencer had become increasingly mutinous. Eugene had no patience for it.

He carted the supplies to the pantry, where Olivia thanked him in a quiet voice that had him thinking she assumed they would be attacked at any moment. He nodded and left without a word.

Just short of his house, he stopped. The sight of it struck him every time like a punch to the gut. It was so empty now.

With his eyes closed, the wind playing gently through his hair, he could almost pretend he was somewhere else. Some _time_ else. Sasha and Abraham would be sitting in the living room, sharing drinks and laughing. Mason would be upstairs with her headphones on, dancing around their bedroom and singing, her voice like orchids, smoke, sunlight.

But when he opened his eyes it was just his reflection, alone in the window of an empty house.

Inside his room, he knelt at Mason's side of the bed. The smell of her still clung to the sheets, and he had to blink several times to banish the tears from his eyes. The slit he'd cut into the mattress was well-hidden; it took him a moment of poking and prodding to find it.

He hadn't expected the contents to have changed overnight but he took inventory anyway: two hunting knives, a roll of hemp cord, a collection of firecrackers and a pouch of the chemical cocktail used for flash bombs. The bow was in his closet. He still had to make the arrows, maybe five or six and that would have to be enough.

He would take the guns last, so no one noticed their absence until it was too late. Likely an automatic rifle and two handguns. After that he'd just have to hope it was enough.

There was the highest probability that he would die. He was terrific at math.

He was also terrific at cheating the odds.

He shoved everything back into the mattress and grabbed Mason's iPod off the bedside table. For a moment he sat there with it, head bent low as if in vigil.

 _I'm not going anywhere. I promise._

Apparently it hadn't been enough for him to promise her that. Fate had seen the loophole and run its cruel knife through.

When the tears stopped, he slipped on her headphones, retrieved the branches he'd stashed in the closet, and set to work making the arrows.

 **Mason**

There was no way of knowing for sure, but she thought it might've been nighttime when the door creaked open.

Daryl had finally fallen asleep after countless hours of restlessness, likely a result of his injury, but Mason hadn't managed it. Fluorescent light illuminated their cell and a shadow passed in front of it. Mason waited silently for Dwight to toss them their food and leave.

Except it wasn't Dwight. She realized this as soon as the shadow crept inside.

Her muscles tensed when she recognized Tyler. The diamond stud in his left ear winked at her ominously.

"Hello, angel."

She tried to scramble to her feet but her legs were weak after so many hours crimped beneath her. Tyler got to her before she could stand. He seized her by the hair and shoved a wad of cloth into her mouth, cutting off her cry of rage. His other arm pressed her against the wall tight enough that it became hard to breathe.

"Calm down, sweet thing," he whispered. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to fit you for clothes."

His free hand trailed down her side to her hips.

"I need to measure all those pretty curves of yours..."

She brought her knee up sharply but he dodged it, slamming her head back against the wall. Stars burst across her vision. Dizzily she clawed at his arm, swiped at his face, but it did no good in her weakened state.

"Calm down," he soothed. "Don't make me knock you ou-"

Daryl's arm appeared out of nowhere, hooking around Tyler's throat. He was yanked away so savagely that he took a clump of Mason's hair with him.

It might've been an effective attack if Daryl had been at full strength. But drained as he was, Tyler's weight sent him reeling backward and they both tumbled to the floor. They scuffled there for dominance. Daryl's snarls cut the room, an entirely animal sound that raised goosebumps on her arms.

But in the time it took for Tyler to gain the upper hand, the whirling in Mason's head faded. She kicked his legs out from under him, then clasped her hands together and jarred them up into his chin.

The effort made the room lurch sickeningly around her. She staggered, her stomach heaving but there was nothing in it to throw up.

"Oh, you are a feisty one, aren't you- _don't_ move, Daryl, or I will put a bullet in her pretty little head."

Mason opened her watery eyes to see Tyler holding his jaw with one hand and pointing a gun at her with the other. Daryl seethed on the floor like a cat contemplating its next strike, his eyes glittering hatefully.

" _You stay away from her_!"

"You're not really in a position to tell me what to do, though, are you?" Tyler grinned. "Now, come here, sweet thing, because I can just as easily turn this gun on him."

Mason swallowed, glancing at Daryl. Desperately he shook his head.

"Mason, don't-"

"Oh, you think I won't shoot him?"

Quick as a wink, Tyler turned and fired a shot, which just missed Daryl's head by inches.

"Stop!" Mason cried.

"Then _come here_."

She obeyed, burning with resentment and trembling with the thought of what he intended to do to her. But she couldn't lose Daryl.

Tyler seized her arm and dragged her out of the cell, instructing her to keep quiet. Daryl stared at her in anguish, lurching forward like he intended on following, but he stopped when Tyler pointed the gun at her head.

"I told you, Daryl, stay put."

He reached out to close the door, but his fingers froze on the handle as a new voice spoke.

"Yo, Ty, boss says he wants-"

The hulking man who usually accompanied Dwight appeared around the corner. He stopped when he saw Tyler and Mason, his face first pinching in confusion and then alighting in fury.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Tyler shoved Mason back into the cell and Daryl caught her, swinging her around behind him.

"I-I caught that one trying to esca-"

"You white trash piece of shit."

The hulking man seized Tyler by the throat and slammed the door shut with his free hand. There was the brief sound of a struggle, but it faded quickly down the hall.

 **Eugene**

The music was so loud that he didn't notice Rosita until she sat on the bed next to him. He jumped, whipping off the headphones.

"Jesus fuck, Rosita."

She held her hands up. "Sorry." Her eyes were red-rimmed, heavy with shadows, but they pierced him like pins. "Arrows, huh?"

"Nothing wrong with your powers of observation," he muttered, continuing to work in the hope that she would take it as a dismissal.

"So you're going to fight them."

He stopped to give her a disparaging look, but his heart rate increased. "With arrows? Yes, that's wise."

"Knowing you, the arrows are probably just step sixteen in a fifty-seven step plan, complete with diagrams."

"That is incorrect. The Saviors are going to take half of our food. I am simply preparing for a hunting trip."

"Oh, cut the crap, Eugene, it's in your eyes," she snapped. "Ever since that night you've been raging around, trying to pretend you're that same meek asshole from Texas but you're not fooling me. Not this time."

"Stop."

His flinty tone brought her up short, but her expression continued to blaze. He stared her down.

"Miss Espinoza, I assure you there is nothing gladiatorial in my intentions, but _if_ I were planning some kind of retaliation against the Saviors, I would involve no one but myself. Now I apologize, but I am otherwise occupied and do not appreciate the interrogation."

Rosita huffed. "I'm one of the ones who wants to fight, too. You can tell me what you're planning, I can help you."

For a moment, he hesitated. He had kept his scheming secret from everyone else because he couldn't risk them stopping him, not to mention that the thought of pitting his family up against the Saviors had made him feel physically ill. But perhaps he could confide in Rosita. Just like him, she'd been full of fury since that night. If she didn't channel it, sooner or later she would do something stupid.

He sighed. "Look. Cards on the table, I don't have much of a plan past following them to their compound. Which makes what I'm doing very dangerous."

"I don't care about that," Rosita said. "They have our people. There's nothing I won't do."

"Yes," he said darkly. "That was my sentiment."

She peered at him. "You aren't the same, you know. You're a long way away from that guy who needed to get to D.C."

"Good."

 **Mason**

Daryl's arms hadn't moved from around her for several hours. He held her close while she shivered against his chest, glaring into the dark as though he expected it to attack them at any time. It occurred to her that she'd never been naked with any other man besides Eugene, but the awkwardness from earlier had faded. There was nothing left but the fear of clinging to each other at the end of the world.

When the door opened, Daryl tightened himself protectively around her. Dwight and the Hulk stepped inside but Tyler was not with them.

"Here," Dwight said and tossed them a stack of clothes. "Get dressed. Negan wants to see you both."

The name made her stomach roll sickly. Her nails dug reflexively into Daryl's back but he didn't flinch.

Dwight left to give them privacy, but the Hulk paused before following to look at her, his face unexpectedly sympathetic.

"They chafe like a bitch," he said. "But they'll fit. And don't worry about that backwoods cracker Tyler. Boss took care of his ass."

Daryl didn't seem to give a shit about anything he was saying; his lips stayed curled in a vicious snarl until the Hulk left. Only when they were alone in their cell did he move, uncurling from around her before handing over the smaller clothes. Every movement with her was gentle, but his eyes were the hollow blue of winter dusk.

When they were dressed in their dingy, obviously previously worn clothes, Daryl led the way cautiously into the hall. When Dwight saw his vigilant stance in front of Mason, he snorted and grabbed Daryl's arm.

"No time to be a knight in white sweatpants. We gotta go."

He led them down several corridors and past a large room that looked like a cafeteria. The Hulk brought up the rear; no gun today, but Mason knew they were just for show anyway. His meaty arms could crush her like a twig.

Finally they arrived at a small room, no bigger than an office. When Dwight ushered them inside, Mason's heart lurched.

Negan leaned casually against a desk, grinning like he'd been looking forward to seeing them. Like they were old friends. The old anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach, but it was muted.

"Daryl and Mason," he said. "How the fuck are we doing today?"

Neither of them responded but Negan didn't seem to notice.

"Just between us friends, you both look like shit. _But_ you look a lot better than you would...I mean, given the circumstances. I don't think either of you realize just how lucky you are."

Mason twitched, only barely containing a look of disgust. _Lucky_? There wasn't anything about her that deserved to keep breathing.

 _it should've_

"Dwight says you haven't been eating," Negan continued. "I don't blame either of you. Believe it or not, there was a time when I had to eat dog food, too. God _damn_ am I glad those days are over. And you know, they can be over for you, too."

 _it should've been_

"This place? This place is _paradise,_ right in the middle of hell. My people live like kings, because they work for me. I liberate them. I _save_ them. And now, I want to save you."

 _it should've been me_

"You thought Rick could take care of you, and holy fuck, you really put the 'ass' in 'assumption' on that one."

Mason and Daryl bristled in unison but didn't dare speak.

"You work for me, I will be the best employer you've ever had. You will never worry about food. You will never worry about where to lay your head at night. You will never worry about someone coming in and taking your shit because _you_ will be that someone."

He paused, and the smile never left his face but his eyes began to glitter.

"But, there is a small entry fee. The past few days have just been...incentive. I don't want you as my slaves. _Or_ my prisoners. No, I want you both to be much more than that. I know you can do it. I believe in you. However..."

He looked behind them at Dwight and the Hulk.

"Who are you?"

"Negan," they answered promptly.

A chill settled over her like October fog.

"Yeah, that's right," Negan said. "See, Dwight here? He started out same as you. Just as stubborn, just as hellbent on opposing me. It's pretty fucking hilarious to think back on, because Dwight is one of my top men. Humble beginnings and all that shit. Him, his wife, Sherry, and her sister, Tina, they all used to work for points. Do something for me, for however many points, eventually they add up and you're free to go. But Tina- rest in peace- she fell behind. Needed insulin but couldn't keep up with the payments. So I asked her to marry me."

At this point, his eyes flickered to Mason and a cold sense of foreboding froze the breath in her lungs. She felt horribly exposed standing before him, more so than she ever would have even if she'd been naked.

"I have quite a few wives and I treat them right, but Dwight and Sherry had the dumbass idea to steal the medication and escape with Tina. I think that's where your paths crossed, Daryl," Negan said. "Well, after Tina met her untimely end, Dwight and Sherry returned to me. They all do if they know what's good for them. And after hashing out a few details, I let Dwight keep his life and I gave Sherry the honor of taking her sister's place as my wife."

Mason just stared in horror. She didn't look back at Dwight, too afraid to draw any attention to herself from Negan, but she couldn't imagine that the retelling of his own story had been easy to swallow.

Negan spread his arms wide, like he was presenting some brilliant thing. "Now here you stand, on the same threshold," he said. "Daryl, I want you to be one of my top men. I like your guts. I think you could do great fucking things."

Then he looked at Mason. It took everything in her not to shiver.

"And you, doll. I'd love it if you'd be my wife."

" _No_!" Daryl snarled. They were the first words he'd spoken since Tyler had attacked her in the cell.

So fast it was startling, Dwight swept up behind them and pressed a gun to Daryl's head.

"Stop!" Mason protested, but Negan was already waving Dwight away.

"No, no, let him go. You don't kill a spark like that. Besides, I seem to have overlooked something which, in retrospect I suppose was pretty fucking obvious." He pointed between Daryl and Mason, eyebrows raised. "You two are together, aren't you? I guess I didn't think about it at first. Had a couple other things on my mind at the time but now I feel like a jackass."

Neither Daryl nor Mason rushed to correct him. They hadn't discussed it, hadn't said a word about it, but there was an understanding between them that didn't need stating.

She was not going to reveal her relationship with Eugene. She couldn't or it would single him out. She and Daryl both knew this.

"Well, don't worry. I'm not about to break up a hot thing." Negan's lips stretched over his gleaming white teeth. "I gave all of my wives choices."

But how many of them had been like Sherry? Mason wondered. How many had been forced into saying yes?

"You can still live it up, wife or no. Both of you can. All you've got to do is answer one simple question: Who are you?"

Mason trembled silently. She wasn't about to say it; she'd die before she said it. But what would he do to Daryl?

"C'mon, doll, I know you're not mute." Negan reached out to touch her cheek and she jerked away. "So who are you?"

"Not your wife," she said. "And not you."

Loudly he laughed, but his eyes glinted like knives. "I like your guts, too, girl, but you are piss-poor at making decisions."

She waited, fully expecting a bullet to cleave her brain or that hideous bat _Lucille_ to shatter her skull into shrapnel, but Negan just turned to Daryl.

"What about you?" he said. "What's your name?"

Daryl stared him down silently for a long time. In his eyes Mason easily read the anger, the despair, all of it a brew of murderous energy, but when he finally spoke- just one word- it was in the quietest voice.

"Daryl."

Negan's smile never faltered. He nodded thoughtfully and then motioned to Dwight and the Hulk.

"Take them back to their cell. Let them keep the clothes. They'll need 'em for tomorrow anyway."

Mason blinked at Daryl. Tomorrow? What did he have planned for them tomorrow? But Negan offered no further explanation as they exited the room.

Dwight did not lead them directly back to their cell, however. Mason and Daryl stuck close together as they followed him down new corridors and eventually outside.

She didn't know how much she'd missed fresh air until her fingers trembled with longing.

From the balcony where they stood, they could see out over one side of the compound to the fence surrounding it. Beyond this were a myriad of walkers, tied to posts at strategic points like constellations of decay. The chains binding them were left with quite a bit of slack- to let them move, Mason realized. They were _guarding_ the place.

When she and Daryl had been brought here, the Saviors hadn't allowed them a good look at their environment. When she'd heard the groans of the dead, she thought it was nothing more than fence pile-up, like they'd dealt with at the prison. But this... She might've thought it an ingenious idea, if not for the fact that the walkers were all sporting the same clothes as her and Daryl.

Dwight glared at both of them and pointed to the walkers. "That? That is where you'll be working if you don't make the right choices."

Mason just blinked, for a moment enamored by the thought. To escape this pain...to be dead...

 _Except you won't really be dead,_ she reminded herself. _And you'll be working for Negan._

Dwight nodded like he could read her thoughts. "Everyone works for him in some way or other. In the end."

"Not us," Daryl growled. "We ain't kneelin'."

Dwight's eyes flashed with fury but lips twitched in a cruel smile. "You already did."

He grabbed Daryl roughly by the shoulder and marched him back inside. The Hulk ushered Mason more gently, his face an inscrutable mask. When they returned to their cell, Dwight all but tossed them in.

"You two are fucking certifiable if you think there's any chance you won't end up just like the rest of us," he said. "Your friends from that night? They got off easy. And Glenn? He'd be thanking you for what you did. You know. If he were alive."

He slammed the door, leaving them reeling.

A second later, two Polaroids slid into their cell.

By the light seeping in through the bottom gap, it was clear enough what the pictures were of.

Mason choked on her breath, clutching at her stomach as if someone had punched her. Tears blurred the images but it didn't matter, because there were Abraham and Glenn, splattered on the ground, reddening the dirt into clay.

Someone had taken a _picture_ of it. Like it was _art_. Like it was something to be documented.

Her head spun dizzily, cut into pieces by sorrow and guilt, but the moment she heard Daryl whimper it no longer mattered.

"Daryl?"

She crouched next to him, pulling him close while the tears shuddered through him.

"Daryl, it's-"

The telltale beat of the song of Satan started up, that saccharine voice twinkling loudly over the rest of Mason's words.

She ground her teeth and screwed her eyes shut, freeing them of tears. Desperately she clung to Daryl and he clung to her, sobbing like his body was trying to tear itself apart, and they were so close that she heard him even over the music.

" _It should've been me_."

" _No_ ," she said fiercely, though she was well aware that she'd been thinking this about herself only minutes ago.

"It should've...it...it should've been me..."

"Daryl. Daryl, please. Look at me."

But he refused, rocking back and forth with eyes that were so dead she thought she might never reach him again.

Panic flooded her. She didn't know what else to do, so she burrowed her face against the side of his neck until her lips were inches from his ear, and then she began to sing.

Anything. Everything. All the songs she could think of, she sang them right into his ear, her hands clamped so tight around her own ears that her head began to ache. She couldn't drown out that damned syrupy voice. All she could do was carve out a place inside of it.

And slowly, slowly, it worked.

Daryl's tears didn't stop but his eyes cleared. He came back to her, enough that she felt his pulse beating rapidly when he took her hand.

Even after that hell-spawn voice fell silent, Mason kept singing. It was only when her voice was too hoarse to continue that she finally stopped.

"Daryl," she whispered. Raggedly. Earnestly. "Daryl, we can't...we can't let them control us. We can't let them use me and you against each other like that, not ever again. You understand? If we're going to die here, then we're going to die here. Okay? We can't let them use each other as blackmail again or they win."

Wordlessly he nodded, turning so that he could rest his forehead against hers.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay. Mason. I..."

He trailed off, but Mason understood.

"Me, too," she said.

She reached out to kick the Polaroids back through the gap under the door, ignoring the well of guilt at the back of her throat, bitter as bile.

"We can't let them win. We can't let them win..."

 **Eugene**

He and Rosita headed out at dawn after checking up on Denise. She was stable and conscious, but still weak. Carl had taken to sitting with her a lot. They joked about how they were going to be pirates together. No one had filled her in yet on the details of their situation, only that they'd had an altercation with the Saviors. She was steady enough to laugh with Carl and Eugene took it as a good sign, but he didn't yet trust what the truth might do to her.

They were silent as they stalked through the woods. Eugene led her to the traps he'd set but all of them were empty. They would likely have to branch further out from the compound if they were to have any luck finding food.

After a while, Rosita glanced at him. "When did you decide? To change, I mean."

He couldn't think why she was asking him this but he answered anyway. "When it became necessary."

She frowned. "You didn't think it was necessary back when all of this started?"

"Clearly I didn't."

"So when? Was it because of Mason?"

He paused. Of course it was because of Mason. Everything in his life that mattered drew a line back to her.

"When Mason lost Beth," he said, "I knew she wasn't going to save herself. Not that time. She didn't want to. That was when I knew. I didn't deserve her but I had to try. She got me to fight so I got her to fight back."

Rosita stared at him for a long time without speaking so he took it as his cue to keep walking.

"I almost kissed her."

He stopped.

"That night we got drunk. I didn't want to because I wanted _her_ exactly. She just reminded me of..."

He didn't need an end to that sentence. She'd always reminded him of Abraham, too.

Frowning, he turned. "I am going to assume by the significance in your tone that you don't just mean a friendly peck on the cheek."

She smiled humorlessly. "You assume correct."

"Well... I have to confess, Miss Espinoza, that this is really coming out of left field. I didn't know you were..."

"Yeah, nobody does. I've had everyone convinced ever since I was a little girl. It was getting to the point where _I_ was starting to believe it."

He nodded thoughtfully, taking a moment to reconcile what he'd previously accepted as truth with this revelation. "Alright," he said. "So you almost kissed her. Why didn't you?"

She stared. "Are you really asking me why I didn't kiss your soulmate?"

"I'm not saying I'm not glad you didn't. But I think you had a reason other than that she and I are together, or you wouldn't be telling me this at all."

Since his therapy lessons with Denise it was getting a little easier reading people. Rosita pursed her lips irritably but didn't dispute him.

"My parents raised me up religious. It wasn't okay not to fit in with social norms and it wasn't okay to subvert the church, but I didn't really appreciate the lengths they'd go..."

She shuddered unconsciously. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to explain, but of course she already knew that. Rosita didn't let anyone in except on her terms. That she'd chosen to confide in him at all spoke volumes.

"There was this kid in my class- Casey. Some days they came to school dressed as a boy and other days as a girl, and I couldn't understand why this didn't bother me the way my parents said it should. But Casey was my first kiss and it _didn't_ bother me, it was just...normal. Just Casey.

"When my parents found out..." She paused to wipe at her eyes and Eugene pretended not to notice. "Let's just say they left little room for misinterpretation. I was a girl, so therefore I must like boys. Jesus...they didn't bat an eye when I told them that Jimmy Fuller forced his tongue down my throat, but god forbid I look at another girl the wrong way. Or _anyone_ that didn't fit into their cramped little world view. _Bastardos_."

Eugene blinked solemnly. "I'm sorry," he said.

Rosita coughed a laugh. "It's done," she said. "Practically ancient history. But after that night...after talking myself out of kissing Mason, I ended up sleeping with Spencer. And let me tell you, I _definitely_ didn't want him. But I fucking did it anyway and I hate myself for it. Denise said I was alone...for the first time in my life...but that's not why. That's not all of it. It's because after years of denying myself who I truly want to be with, forcing myself to fuck any guy that was willing because that's what _normal_ girls did, I've trained that to be my first response. And even after the goddamn _world ends_ I'm still too fucking scared to kiss who I want to kiss."

This time she didn't bother hiding her tears.

"Only...Abraham knew. He was the only one I ever told."

She reached into her pocket and drew out a cluster of items that put a lump in Eugene's throat.

"Sasha let me have these. But I can't..." She swallowed. "He'd want you to have something of his anyway."

Hesitantly, Eugene took the gloves and the necklace, the little red pendant that had replaced Abraham's dog tags, and felt his chest well with that fierce, familiar ache, like someone sliding a blade right between his lungs.

"Thank you," he said, nearly inaudible.

"He loved you," she murmured. "You were his family."

Briefly closed his eyes. He willed himself not remember that night. He couldn't.

"You were, too," he said. "And you _can_ change. You're strong enough to be who you're meant to be."

She nodded, though she looked dubious. "We all have to be now. We don't have a choice."

She wasn't wrong, but it still put a dark cloud in his chest. He sighed.

"Like I said. When it becomes necessary."

They continued on after that in silence, scoping the trees for any signs of prey. But with every minute that passed without coming upon anything, his insides began to burn with anxiety. The Saviors were going to be arriving at their gate sooner than later, and they said they would only take half of Alexandria's food but that didn't matter.

They could take however much they wanted. They could take whatever and whoever they wanted. Eugene ground his teeth in frustration. His people had been struggling to avoid starvation as it was. And now...

 _Nothing in these goddamn woods. Nothing I can do to protect my people._

The walkers took him by surprise, five of them lumbering out of a copse of densely packed pine trees. But though his pulse jumped, he didn't flinch away. With a feral snarl, he fell on them with a burst of unexpected savagery. His movements were quick and ferocious, killing all of them except one. The last he grabbed by the knots of its grimy hair and smashed its head against a tree, again and again and again, screaming as he did so, long after it was dead.

When he finally let it go, stumbling back, he turned to see Rosita watching him. Tears ran down her cheeks but her expression was hard, a ghost of the fire he recognized glittering in her eyes.

She nodded once, a cold smile sharpening her features. "We're gonna get them back," she said.

He looked down at the bodies strewn about his feet, blinking blood from his eyelashes. "Yes, we are."

They had little luck straying further from home, but on the return journey they collected two rabbits from the snare line. It wasn't as much as he'd hoped, but at least they weren't coming back empty-handed.

Gabriel was on gate duty when they returned. He raised an eyebrow at Eugene's appearance, and it was only then that Eugene realized just how much of himself was covered in blood.

"Run into trouble?"

"Just your average everyday reanimated corpses," Eugene replied.

"Everything quiet here?" Rosita asked.

"So far," Gabriel said. "I was just-"

But he never finished his sentence because in the distance, growing louder with each second, came the telltale roar of several trucks barreling toward them.

All of them tensed. They didn't have to see the trucks to know who it was. Gabriel unslung the rifle from his shoulder.

"Find Rick."

Eugene hurried away, Rosita close behind, his heart pounding so hard it made him dizzy.

 **Mason**

They rode in the back of the same van that had delivered them to the Saviors compound, so there wasn't any view to take in, no indication of where they were going. Mason's thoughts raced in a frenzied attempt to draw some conclusion. Negan himself had accompanied the caravan, as well as a slew of men bristling with guns, so it was obviously something big.

Was he going to use her and Daryl to make a point to some other unlucky group? Was he going to draw red X's on their chest and hang them from the side of an overpass?

Daryl gripped her hand the whole time they sat in the back of that van, a rigid shadow in the dark. She knew his thoughts were as loud as hers but he never said a word.

She didn't dare allow herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, they were being taken back to Alexandria. Negan was not a man of mercy, that she knew, and she was also fairly certain he wouldn't give up so easily in his attempts to sway them to his side.

She didn't think of Alexandria. She didn't think of her family or the last time she'd seen their faces. There was absolutely no way she could allow herself to think of Eugene.

So when the van pulled to a stop and the doors were opened, it was the last thing she expected to see.

Home.

 _Home._

They were parked right outside Alexandria's gate, right outside the place where Judith had said her first words, where Denise and Tara had fed ducklings by the pond, where Maggie had tended her gardens.

Right outside the place where Mason had kissed Eugene and led her people into battle and found herself again.

Negan knocked Lucille against the gate.

"Come out, come out, little piggies."

It was the last thing she'd expected to see.

It was the last thing she wanted to see.

Home.

 **Alpha**

They carted Mason and the archer into their van today. Probably taking them back to Alexandria as a show of power, not that that was necessary. The Alexandrians were broken horses, though not all of them were content to sit under someone else's rule.

The Chemist intended to fight, and the pretty girl he took hunting with him. Rosita. They were formidable, so it was a start. All the same...

Yesterday she watched the Saviors beat a man to death. She remembered him from her time spent at their compound, a skeevy dickwad named Tyler. She had no idea what he did, but Negan himself assisted with beating the ever-loving shit out of him so it must have been a serious offense. They tied him to a tree and let him die from his wounds, and the next morning they chained him up with the rest of the cold bodies on the fence line.

The Chemist didn't know what he was up against. He was smart. Cunning. She liked that about him. But his plan was abstract at best.

So she intended to fix that.

NOTE: So I've always _loved_ the idea of Rosita being bisexual. I was always hoping that in the show they would reveal this to be her sexuality- or lesbian or _something,_ I think partly because I'm as much of a slut for RositaXTara as I am for TaraXDenise (although admittedly that is not my plan, which might've made me sad if I weren't so excited for the plans I _do_ have). Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter, I hope to crack the next one out soon. Until then, all the love, you guys.


	22. Left Hand Free

Well, hello all! I'm back with another chapter, and hopefully this time there aren't any snags with the notifications. I'd hoped they'd have the problem fixed by now, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Anyway, today's chapter title is "Left Hand Free" by alt-J, which most of you probably recognize as it's one of their more popular ones. I am a huge fan of juxtaposition between a song and a scene, so it is perfect- a kickass party song and a tense, dark chapter. Love it lol. As always, thank you guys for your continued support and for your reviews, which never fail to put a smile on my face. Hope ya'll enjoy this one, let me know what you think!

22\. Left Hand Free

 **Mason**

"Let us in, little piggies, or we will knock your house down."

The gate opened slowly, revealing Gabriel and Rick at the head of a cluster of Alexandrians. The sight of them all sent a shard so deep through her chest that the breath was driven from her lungs.

Suddenly Dwight was there, dragging her roughly out of the van. "Don't even think about pulling anything," he said. "Or we will kill one of them."

She didn't respond. Her eyes flickered desperately from face to face, searching for the one she couldn't bear thinking about, the one she couldn't bear never seeing again. Her heart thumped painfully when she realized Eugene wasn't there.

"Howdy, Rick," Negan said, strolling into the compound. His men followed, casually armed and apparently unconcerned by the Alexandrians' guns.

Mason noticed, however, that the only Alexandrians with weapons were the ones that hadn't been there that night. That hadn't seen what Negan was all too willing to do to them.

Rick didn't acknowledge Negan at first. His eyes were trained on Mason and Daryl, welling with anguish.

"Mas-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Rick." Negan brought Lucille to rest right in front of Rick's nose. "I don't want you talking to them- in fact, don't even look at them. Unless you _want_ to cut their tongues out, of course. But I don't think you're the kind of man who could stomach that, are you?"

Rick was quick to avert his gaze. He stared at the ground, hands shaking, and Mason's stomach twisted sickly at the sight.

" _Are you_?" Negan repeated.

"N-no. No," Rick replied.

"Good."

"You're early."

"I just wanted to make sure that you were taking this seriously. Can you blame me after that shit you pulled? For all I knew, you could've been fucked so far off the deep end you were planning to _fight_. But that's not the case, right, Rick? You wouldn't be that fucking stupid, would you?"

"No."

The Alexandrians stared. Their expressions ranged from confusion to outrage to utter horror. Most of them had never seen Rick so submissive before, and Mason was sure they were expecting subterfuge, a sneak attack, some spark of the old Rick that had come in and told them to fight or die.

But when Negan turned his back, Rick did nothing. And Mason saw it dawn on them then. That this was really happening. That whatever last bit of hope they'd been clinging to, it didn't amount to shit.

"Alright, boys, you know the drill," Negan said.

Immediately the Saviors began to fan out, pushing past mute Alexandrians like they weren't even there. Mason dug her nails into her palm, stifling the urge to scream. The thought of them in her family's houses...

"Dwight. AJ. Let's see if they've been good little piggies."

 **Eugene**

He flew through the house, packing a rucksack with the paraphernalia hidden in his mattress as well as a change of clothes and a few non perishables from the kitchen. He didn't know if he'd be able to get to the armory in time. It was possible he'd have to sneak away with only one gun on his belt, only three rounds in the magazine, which narrowed his already-narrowed odds of survival significantly.

Briefly he indulged in far-flung fantasy of revolting at that very moment. Of taking up arms and mowing the Saviors down from windows and rooftops.

 _It's too risky. They'd kill half your people in the process, maybe more._

He ground his jaw. Lay low, try to get to the armory. That was his play. But there was little time even for that.

He grabbed Mason's iPod off the dresser and hurried out of the room.

The Saviors were spread out, moving arrogantly around the neighborhood. They hadn't made it to his house yet but three of them were closing in. Grim and silent, Eugene ghosted to the back of the house, one hand resting at his gun.

He wasn't expecting Enid to be there when he rounded the corner. His heart jumped into his throat.

"Jesus!" he hissed. "What are you doing?"

She regarded him through narrowed eyes. "I could ask you the same thing. Shouldn't you be at the pantry?"

"Why I should I be at the pantry?"

"You don't know? Mason's there. Negan brought her and Daryl with them."

His pulse stuttered.

Mason.

Mason was here.

Mason was _home_.

"Why?" he rasped.

"I don't know, he didn't say." Enid's gaze flickered with shadows. "Probably to remind us what he'll do to them."

"Was she okay? Was she hurt?"

"She looked alright... For a prisoner."

Desperation electrified his veins. The need to be with her overwhelmed everything, muddling his thoughts.

 _Focus or you'll never get her back._

"Enid, can you do something for me? It's important," he said.

She straightened alertly, simultaneously eager and grave. "Are you going to fight them?"

"I can't. Not yet. But I need to get to Mason. Can you take this?" He held out the rucksack. "Take it over the wall and stash it by the cars. Don't let anyone see you."

"I never do."

"I'm serious. This is dangerous. If they catch you-"

"It's full of weapons, right? To fight them when the time comes?" Her expression was like iron. "Go to Mason. I won't get caught."

The glint in her eyes convinced him, despite his fear. He laid a grateful hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you. Be safe."

 **Mason**

She stood outside the pantry with the Hulk- AJ, Negan had called him. Negan himself was inside with Rick, Dwight and Daryl, interrogating Olivia about the food supply; she could hear their muffled voices but couldn't make out what they were saying.

Suddenly, from across the street, she heard the angry shout of a familiar voice. The shock of hearing it sent an arrow through her chest, and it was only then that she realized she'd convinced herself she'd never hear it again.

AJ saw her jerk in the direction of the commotion. "Don't make a scene," he hissed. "Or your people will pay the price." He didn't say it like a threat. He said it like a warning.

But that was _Eugene_. She couldn't ignore him.

She pretended to be complacent. She waited half a beat. And then she broke into a run.

She was too fast for AJ. By the time he let out a shout she was already across the street and disappearing around the corner of the church. She didn't stop or slow down, not even when she saw Eugene, cornered by a heavily-muscled man in an alley between houses. He had one ridiculously large hand fisted in Eugene's shirt, and the other reaching for something around Eugene's neck. Her iPod, she noticed with a jolt of surprise.

Without stopping to think, she sprinted down the narrow path and barreled into the man. It wasn't enough to knock him down, he was far too sturdy for that, but he did release Eugene.

"Mason!"

She didn't stop to look at him, though she was aching to see his face, his eyes. Instead she dug her nails into Muscle Man's skin and began to tear. When his hands clamped around her arms, she kneed him in the balls.

He doubled over with a snarl, red climbing up his neck into his cheeks. He punched her in the stomach so hard and so fast that it snapped her into a fold. She collapsed, retching.

" _Hey_!"

Eugene's shout came a heartbeat before the gunshot. Panic seared through her as the blood misted her face, but when she blinked up through reddened tears she was just in time to see Muscle Man fall to the ground with a new hole in his head.

Eugene stood above her with the gun still raised, his expression cold and remote. It would have frightened her had she been on the receiving end. His face was still healing, still colorful with bruises, but it didn't make him look vulnerable. There was something deadly in him that had not been there before.

When he looked at her, however, the frigidness left his features. His eyes welled with sadness, fear, love, relief, all of it burning so brightly she felt her own body warm in response.

"May," he whispered and she let out a breath that might have been a sob.

A second later, Negan and AJ appeared in the alley, so quick that neither Mason nor Eugene had time to react. Negan punched Eugene hard enough to send him reeling, blood pouring out of his nose.

" _No_!" Mason screamed, hooking her arms around Negan's legs because she knew she wouldn't get to her feet in time. He looked down at her sharply before shaking her off.

AJ picked her up as effortlessly as plucking a petal from a flower. She thrashed in his grip, desperate to free herself, but he was too strong.

"So, Tennesse tophat," Negan said, prowling slowly around Eugene, who stood his ground with blood streaming from his nose. "You are some kind of fucking stupid, huh? I mean, not just for the hair, although... _Day-um_. Someone needs to inform you that you are stuck in the wrong decade, my friend."

Eugene trembled, something Negan likely mistook for fear. But Mason knew him, and she saw his eyes, the frenzy in them. To get to her. To protect her. It was the same need that burned in her own bones, that same instinct hardwired into her from the very beginning.

"Give me your gun, hockey hair."

When Eugene didn't move, Negan's eyes glittered.

"Give me your gun, or I start cutting fingers off of Mason here- one for every second you hesitate."

A muscle feathered in Eugene's jaw but he didn't say a word as he handed over the gun.

Negan smiled. "'Atta boy." Then he pressed the gun to Eugene's head.

" _NO_!" Mason shrieked, jerking so violently she nearly escaped AJ's iron grip. Fear scorched her nerve endings, dizzying her, scattering her thoughts like dandelion seeds.

Negan turned, brows arched in surprise, but he didn't move the gun.

Tears ran feverish tracks down her cheeks. "Shoot me."

Eugene's eyes widened. " _Mason-_ "

"Let the girl talk, mudflap," Negan said in a voice that was dangerously amiable.

"I was the one who shot him," Mason babbled. "I took Eugene's gun and I shot that man and Eugene tried to stop me, he took the gun back but it was too late, _please_ , it was me. Please just shoot me."

Her legs trembled, every inch of her so weak from distress she was sure that if not for AJ she would have already crumpled to the ground.

"No," Eugene said. "She didn't-"

Mason screamed when Negan fired the gun, nearly blacking out from an overwhelming whirl of terror and relief when she saw that he had aimed it just past Eugene's head. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the wall of the house.

"Now," Negan said. "What really happened? Give me a play-by-play."

"I shot him," Eugene said. "He was threatening me, trying to take my headphones. Mason was just trying to protect me."

"Protect you?" Negan made a big show of looking him up and down, as though he were examining a particularly baffling math equation. " _Protect you_? When she knows firsthand that I _do not fucking tolerate that shit_?"

"Please." It was all she could say. "Please."

"What makes you so special, Ranchero? I mean, _look_ at her. I have never seen her...so..."

He trailed off. His eyes flickered from her to Eugene and back again, eagle sharp with cunning, and she fell absolutely still. She saw the exact moment he understood, because his face darkened with a triumphant fury that turned her blood to ice.

"Oh," he said. His voice was quiet but there was thunder behind it. The guns that went off in his expression shot bullets right through her rib cage. He bared his teeth in a wicked, humorless smile. "AJ. Give her to me."

AJ hesitated, releasing her only when Negan grabbed her arm. She met Eugene's wide, terrified gaze and felt her gut twist wretchedly. They were nothing more than rabbits in a snare.

"Take ole Mississippi waterfall here back to the gate and wait for me. Mason and I are gonna have a little chat."

"No, please-"

But Eugene shut up immediately when Negan put the gun to Mason's head.

"And round up the rest of these sorry shits." He reached out to snatch the headphones from around Eugene's neck and the iPod came with it. "I want them to see this."

Without another word, he dragged Mason out of the alley and into the nearest house, slamming the door behind them. It was the school that he'd happened to pick, she realized idly, the empty house the Alexandrians had utilized to teach classes in. He led her to the bedroom on the first level, which had no bed but contained a large desk and a dozen or so fold-out chairs.

Forcefully he sat her down in one of these. The table lamp cast them in eerie illumination.

Negan leaned against the desk, nothing more than an imposing silhouette, and examined her iPod in silence. She watched him. Every nerve quivered with tension, bursting with the longing to race back outside, to grab Eugene and run.

"You know," he finally said, "I had a Zune back in the day. Worthless piece of crap. But I took that thing with me everywhere I went." He smiled at her. "Music made me not want to murder everyone quite so much."

Slowly, her quivering stilled. Fear maintained the blistering pace of her pulse, but the sight of him holding her iPod, leaning on the desk where she and Eugene had taught their students, threatening her family with all the casual arrogance of a cat playing with a mouse... It made her teeth scrape together.

Away from Eugene, away from the immediate threat to his safety... She was beginning to feel the ghost of her old bloodlust rallying.

"Now I listen to music to murder people by. It's kind of ironic, isn't it? That a chain could suddenly become a spur? Yeah. That's some poetic shit."

He regarded her for a moment, with the same contemplative smile he'd worn just before dragging Rick into the RV.

"You know what kind of music Eugene likes, Mason? You ever just sat and listened...close enough to feel his heart beating?"

Quick as a cat, she lunged for her iPod, but Negan was expecting this. He kicked her back into her chair hard enough that it skidded along the wooden floor, knocking over several others in the process.

She glared at him and coughed, "It's mine."

His eyes twinkled. "Oh, it's _yours_ , huh? Strange that Eugene should have it, isn't it?"

"I let all my friends use it."

"I see."

Before she could react he grabbed her by the throat, swinging her around and slamming her onto the desk. She hissed as her back cracked against the side.

"I don't appreciate you lying to me, Mason," he said, close enough that she could smell his breath- cinnamon and cigar smoke. "I thought we were friends."

He knew, _he knew_ , but she wasn't going to confirm it.

"I'm not lying," she growled. "It really is my iPod."

He huffed an impatient laugh. "Funny. I like a woman who can fuck with me."

Her heart constricted when he reached for the knife at his belt. It winked cruelly in the low, orange light.

"Ordinarily I would've made Eugene do this. Poetic, you know," he continued in a low purr. "But I don't want him touching you again. And by the way, it's not your iPod anymore. Everything that your people own, everything about them, everything about _you_ , is _mine_."

The knife was startlingly cold as it brushed against her face. She clenched her jaw, resolving not to make a sound.

But the moment it cut into her flesh she couldn't hold back the scream.

~m~

The light from the sun was dizzying. It spun drunkenly around her head, turning her brain to fuzz. She was aware of the people around her the way you are aware of figures in a dream- no more than hazy, confusing blurs. Their gasps of horror at the sight of her were a strange stew- sharp on one side, muffled on the other.

She could barely walk. It was only Negan's grip on her that kept her from collapsing, that kept her lurching forward on unsteady legs. The right side of her face was sticky with blood, a warm wash of it descending down her neck and shoulder.

Right from the hole where her ear had been, and where it no longer was.

 _my ear._

 _he took my ear._

 _he took_

" _Mason_!"

Eugene's strangled cry came from her right. Muted, but it punched an effective hole through her chest nonetheless.

"Everyone get a good eyeful," Negan announced, parading her around like a show dog. "This is what happens when you subvert the system. Underdogs are charming as fuck in movies but in real life they get their asses handed to them. So when you go to bed tonight I want you all to count all your appendages, from your toes to your balls, and just remember how ridiculously easy it is to part with them."

Sweat and tears blinded her. She couldn't bear to look at Eugene, couldn't bear to look at any of them. She teetered constantly on the verge of passing out.

"Oh, and one last thing." Negan threw Dwight a significant look. Immediately Dwight and a pocket of Saviors made a beeline in the direction of the armory.

"We'll be taking all your guns."

"Wait a minute."

Suddenly Rick was there; in her current nebulous state, it was almost as though he materialized out of thin air. He was shaking from head to toe, and though he never quite looked at her she felt his desperation, his instinct to protect her, crackling in the air around them.

"We didn't agree to that. We need our weapons to-"

"Rick, you can keep your crappy ass hatchets," Negan said. "I just want any and all weapons that require bullets. By the way, you have Mason and Eugene to thank for that little stipulation. Apparently you people _still_ can't be trusted."

He dragged her to the van, where Daryl was waiting inside, guarded by AJ. His eyes were wide with horror, his lips murmuring her name, but she was unable to respond. Her consciousness slipped at the edges.

Negan tossed her unceremoniously into the van. Daryl caught her and pulled her close, shielding her with his own body.

"AJ, I'm gonna need you to take these two back. Get Mason to the infirmary before she bleeds to death."

The doors closed, sealing off the light, but less than a second after this a deeper darkness stole her remaining senses.

 **Eugene**

His vision was bathed in red.

Everything was stained in the color he itched to spill, the color of the rage that surged so relentlessly through him he thought he would either burn away or burst.

Unconsciously he found himself stepping forward, but Negan grinned at him and said, "If anyone tries to follow us, I will carve Mason's face like a fucking jack-o-lantern. And don't think I won't; I love Halloween."

Eugene halted, quivering with frustration, consumed by a hate he could barely contain. It took everything in him, every cell in his body, to smooth his face into an emotionless mask.

He watched through this mask as Negan and his Saviors counted all the guns before loading them up, watched as Negan pried the pistol from Rick's belt and the rifle from Gabriel's hands. Only after they were assured that they had all of them did they take their leave, loaded down with everything else they'd decided to claim. And when they were gone, nobody moved. They stood motionless for a long time, staring at each other with the hollow horror of those who had seen their own graves.

~m~

Eugene shivered in his jacket, pulling it tighter around him. The bitter bite of November sucked the marrow straight out of the night.

Everyone was in their houses excluding the guards along the fence, though the part of him that was dead, the part of him that wanted to lie down and dissolve into the earth, wondered why the guards were even necessary. This was not their home anymore.

He felt strangely vulnerable as he edged down the alley, exposed as though he stood in an open field rather than between two houses. The light from one of the windows cast its imprint upon the shadows, but it did little to comfort him. It didn't belong here. It was like someone had scooped up some comforting thing from another world and placed it in hell just to torture him.

But it did have its uses.

A tiny gleam caught his eye, tucked away in the grass not far from the blood left behind by his victim. He picked it up, running his fingers over its smooth edges.

Nothing significant had changed. Just some the finer points.

Silently he pocketed the bullet casing and ghosted away from the light. The darkness felt more like home anyway.


	23. Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf)

Hello, lovelies! Today's chapter title is "Hollow Moon" by AWOLNATION, the lyrics fit really well with this chapter. As always, thank you guys so much for your support! Also, WickedlyMinx: Yes, sorry about the confusion! I uploaded the last chapter originally when they were going through their site maintenance but whenever I would click on it it wouldn't show me anything. I posted it again just to be safe but I guess the issue was just on my end :) And lindir's gaze, I'm so glad I'm not the only one who ships TaraXRosita! Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I really hope you guys enjoy it. Also, I will be including a short note at the end so you can check that out if you're curious. Let me know what you think!

23\. Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf)

 **Eugene**

It was the longest night of the year.

The work was tedious and the minutes dragged. Every beat of his heart was painful, not knowing if Mason was alright, not knowing if those bastards had gotten her to the infirmary in time.

He tried to comfort himself with probabilities. It would have taken more than cutting off an ear for her to bleed out, unless for some reason her body decided not to clot. But she had never exhibited any signs of hemophilia before, so that wasn't probability, that was panic. Infection was a real concern, infection of a head wound an even _bigger_ concern, though he didn't doubt Negan had a terrific doctor on staff.

But disregarding all of that...she had lost an _ear_. Of all the things for that son of a bitch to cut off. Mason _relied_ on music. She _lived_ for it. A splinter of agony shook him to think off all the times she'd slipped on her headphones for comfort, for safety, for sanity.

 _The probability that she lost the entirety of her hearing on that side is minimal, unless her eardrum was punctured. And she still has another ear,_ he reminded himself, momentarily struck by the impossibility of it all. That he was even comforting himself by thinking that at least she still had _one_ ear. That she was lucky it wasn't worse.

Suddenly appendages had become a luxury.

His fingers twitched with the urge to tighten into fists, to wrap around throats, to break bones...

 _Stop._

He was almost done, and if he wanted it done _right_ then he had to fucking focus.

The moon had crawled significantly across the sky; it glinted at an angle through the dusty windows, illuminating the bullet as he held it up for examination. It was not quite as clean, not quite as refined as a new one, but it was efficient. It would get the job done. Except...

Except now he had only one. _One_ bullet against the empire of the Saviors.

Not to mention that at the moment he lacked any gun to put said bullet in.

But he'd get to that when he got to it.

A muffled crash came from somewhere behind him. He whipped around, drawing Mason's fire poker from its cord on his shoulder. He couldn't help remembering the last time he'd been here, the iron-smelted walkers, his argument with Abraham...

He flinched away from the thought before it could really sink its teeth in him. His steps were quiet and purposeful as he crept to the back of the building, his ears trained to listen just as Daryl had taught him. But though he examined every corner, every shadow where something- alive or dead- could be hiding, he found nothing.

Unease prickled along his spine, the vague but relentless certainty that he was not alone. Pocketing the bullet, he hurried back to the place he'd left his rucksack.

Only it wasn't there.

He stood there for a moment, blinking at the place where it should've been and the scrap of paper that sat there instead. Then his muscles tensed, his eyes darting about for any signs of his unexpected guest. But there was nothing. Knuckles white around the poker, he crept to the front door and eased it open, fully aware that he could be triggering a snare.

A heavy rain had started to fall, but he saw no one. Whoever had dropped by had not decided to linger.

Only then did he feel a spark of outrage. What sorry sack of shit had deemed it necessary to steal his supplies? Grinding his teeth, he stormed back inside and snatched the paper off the ground.

The handwriting was messy, the paper spattered with raindrops. His heart rate spiked the moment he began deciphering its chaotic scrawl.

 _I'm taking this so that you aren't tempted to go through with your stupid plan,_ it read.

 _They search your belongings when they take you to the compound. If they found you with weapons, they would punish you. Severely. You'll need all your limbs to play their game. I will return them to you when it's safe to do so._

 _Wait._

 _He will come for you._

It gave no indication who it was from. It was signed only from "a friend". He stifled the part of him that wished it was from Mason, but that made no sense. In any case it wasn't her handwriting. Anyone whose handwriting he recognized would've talked to him face to face anyway.

His eyes narrowed. The odds were it was someone in Negan's circle. Maybe someone subverting the system? Or perhaps...someone acting on Negan's behalf, to trick him? But if that were the case, why not just capture him while he was unaware? Why go through the trouble of leaving him a note? Subterfuge wasn't something one relied on heavily when they could just fall back on muscle.

 _Wait. He will come for you._

His chest tightened at the thought, though he supposed this was exactly what he'd wanted. Better, probably. If Negan came and got him, he wouldn't have to worry about figuring out a way into the compound. They'd just let him in the front door.

He sat in the forge for a long time, staring at the note without reading it. The words kept jumbling around in his mind, storming in harmony with the thunder outside.

If Negan was coming for him, that changed the game quite a bit. And he supposed it was for the better. If he really thought about it, his previous plan had been a suicide mission. And...

Hadn't he wanted it to be?

Deep down, in the core of him, something was broken. It had been since the night...

He closed his eyes.

Since Abraham and Glenn were murdered.

Since Mason and Daryl were taken from him.

Since seeing Rick brought low and beaten into the dirt.

Hadn't he wanted to die? Hadn't the thought plagued him since then, a vague shadow that never quite presented itself as anything but a whisper? It stirred the buried grief of everything else he'd done, every sin he'd committed to get himself here, and he'd changed, he'd _changed,_ but...

For what?

To kneel at the foot of a murderous tyrant? To watch his people gruesomely murdered in front of him? To see the love of his life enslaved and mutilated and know that there was nothing, _nothing_ , he could do?

 _There is something you can do,_ the bloodlust whispered.

But the bloodlust was reckless, the bloodlust fed the part of him that wanted to put a gun in his mouth.

Revenge was worthless if you didn't have the patience to wait for it.

 _Wait. He will come for you._

He was willing to die for this. To free Mason and Daryl. To help his people. He wasn't afraid of dying anymore.

He was afraid of dying for nothing.

And so he had to _think_. Beyond the meager supplies he'd gathered, which he had no clue when he'd get back. Beyond the simple thought that had driven him, that fantasy of vengeance.

He had to rely on his strengths.

He had to plan, strategize, calculate the odds.

He had to _lie_.

It came to him then like the bitter sting of bile, the realization he'd been denying all along. Because it had crossed his mind before, of course it had, every angle, every move on the board had crossed his mind, that was why he crushed it at strategy games, but _this_ , Jesus christ, _this_?

Not again. He couldn't do it. Not again. How many people had died the last time?

"Nine," he whispered.

He had chosen to go it alone, to sneak into the Saviors' compound with a fucking bow and arrow, to avoid this.

But that wasn't going to cut it. He'd been dreaming.

 _Best liar in the multiverse._

He was. He was.

The rain hadn't let up by the time he decided to return home. He kept the bullet in his pocket, the iron in his hand, as he trudged through the sodden darkness. Hoping the rain would wash away the storm of apprehension, the grief, creeping through him.

But it grew, just like the bloodlust, forcing its way into all the empty spaces that Negan had hollowed out the moment he brought that bat down on Abraham's head.

He was not the same anymore. He was not.

But in order to win, he'd have to act as though he hadn't changed at all.

 **Mason**

Consciousness swirled in and out in lazy, teasing waves. She drifted with them, letting them push and pull, tugging her down beneath a sway of numbness like her body had gone cold at the bottom of the ocean.

She was alone. The world had narrowed to this one room, this one darkness, to one breath. Daryl was in their old cell and she was in the one next to it. She didn't know why they'd been separated. It took too much effort to care.

Daryl wasn't there. Eugene wasn't there. She was alone.

She thought she was broken before. Only now did she realize that she'd been clinging to a last scrap of hope she hadn't even dared acknowledge.

But now that was gone.

Seeing the Saviors prowling through her home like lions...reuniting with Eugene only to be dragged away again, to know there was nothing she could do to help him...

It had killed that last little bit of her, that last little bit she didn't even know she'd had.

At some point, the waves dragged her back out to sea and her grip on reality faded. The pain in her head was a receding smolder, winking out piece by piece like dying stars.

She drifted in the dark for some time before she heard a voice, quiet and gentle, gliding toward her like a leaf on a breeze.

"Wake up, sweetheart."

Mason blinked hazily. _Lori?_

"You gotta wake up, sweetheart."

 _For what?_

"For what's happened, and what's going on."

Tyreese's voice ghosted around her, deep and comforting and soothing.

 _I don't want to see...I don't want to be awake anymore..._

"Girl, you may be a lot of things but I never took you for a pussy."

Even in the dark, even in the cold, there was enough left of her to feel a spark of irritation.

"Shut up, Merle," she rasped.

He appeared beside her with that familiar shit-eating grin, but his eyes were hard as granite.

"You gonna condemn my baby brother like that? Leave him in that cell to rot?"

"There's nothing...I can do..."

Every word was a struggle. There was too much weight on her lungs.

"You're not dead yet," Noah said from her other side, his eyes dark with grave wisdom. "You're not dead."

She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt tears leaking from her eyes.

 _I should be._

"No, sweetheart," Lori whispered.

But it was a lie.

It should've been her that night.

"That is the biggest load of cow shit this side of Kansas."

The voice ran through her like the strike of a blade. Too familiar. She couldn't stand it.

But there he was regardless, just as muscled and steadfast as he had been in life. He grinned as though he'd said something particularly clever. She groaned.

"Goddammit, Abraham."

"That's it? Those are your first words to me after seeing me murdered? Real nice. I feel the love."

 _You're not here. This is a dream. You're not here._

"Sorry to disappoint you, sugar, fire, and hellspawn, but I _am_ here. Still got your blinders on, huh?"

 _Don't do this to me, please-_

It was her mind playing tricks. Fucking with her, because why not, she was already down, she deserved a few good kicks.

"Stop being so dramatic, soldier. There's shit to do. And you're only allowed to fall apart _after_ you get shit done, remember?"

 _It's a little different now, Red._

"Only on a cosmetic level."

Panic whirled her thoughts and her eyes shut tight. She needed to get out of this dream, she needed to return to that anesthetizing blackness, that nothingness, she needed to become a part of it before...

A hand touched her cheek.

She stilled, the breath catching in her throat. It felt like a bruise.

No. No.

"Mason."

The voice shattered her. She opened her eyes with a shuddering gasp, that agony beating at the core of her, the agony from the night everything broke.

Glenn knelt before her, his eyes full of sorrow, but he was smiling, _smiling_ at her. Like he was happy to see her. Like she hadn't killed him.

"You didn't," he said. "Mason, it wasn't your fault."

 _Bullshit._

She had taken him away from Maggie, from their baby, from their whole family. Violently she shook her head, fighting to get back to that numb place, but Glenn held her face in his hands and eyed her firmly.

"Mason. I don't blame you at all."

The sobs that racked her then nearly tore her apart.

But Glenn held her while she cried, and so did Abraham. And there was Lori humming soothingly in her ear, Tyreese holding her hand and Noah holding the other, Merle patting her on the head and affectionately calling her a crybaby.

"You have to keep fighting, Mason," they whispered. "This isn't the end."

And because they said it, because they felt so _real,_ she believed them.

~m~

She didn't know how long it was before dream bled back into reality. She couldn't even pinpoint when it happened. She just...washed up on shore again, miraculously alive. But though her eyes were burning, though her body was fatigued as though she really had struggled her way out of the sea, she was awake for the first time since that night.

She didn't know how she was going to get out of here. She didn't know how this whole thing would play out.

But she knew that she _was_ getting out. And she knew that no matter what it took to get there, the end would be the same.

She was going to fight.

She was going to kill them all.

 **Eugene**

In the predawn quiet, it was easier to believe that everything would eventually return to this. To calm, to gentle. He found himself rubbing absently at his left arm, where the Wolf scar was. He had felt so sure the world was ending when the Wolves descended. And even more so when the walkers invaded. But it hadn't. They'd survived and the sun had come up the next morning, just like always.

He told himself that. But this time was just _wrong_ , in ways it hadn't been before. Glenn and Abraham beaten to death, Mason and Daryl captured, Maggie and Sasha ensconced at the Hilltop, Carol and Morgan disappeared and no one had a clue where they could be...

"You okay, Eugene?"

He blinked, realizing that Carl had come up the path. He had Judith in his arms, and his face was drawn from lack of sleep. Something pinched in Eugene's chest. With the wrappings over his eye, with the clothes that didn't quite fit his skinny limbs, he looked very young and much too tired.

"Are you?" Eugene replied.

Carl shrugged and sat next to him. "I'm alright."

He knew it wasn't the truth, but neither of them acknowledged it.

"What happened to your hand?" Carl inclined his head toward the gauze bandaging wrapped around Eugene's left hand.

"Wasn't paying attention. Cut it pretty good, but luckily not deep enough to need stitches."

His first lie.

"She couldn't sleep," Carl continued, stroking a hand through Judith's curls. "And I was already up, so I figured I'd give Dad and Michonne a break. They haven't... They need it."

"Yes, they do."

"You do, too." Carl peered at him, at the bruises, the stitches, the twice-broken nose. "You've been going twenty-four seven since..."

Eugene tried not to flinch. "I need to make sure there's enough food to go around. We were only going to scrape by with what we got from the Hilltop and now that's gone. After Daryl, I'm the best hunter."

"Enid and I are pretty good now. We can take care of it."

There was something in Carl's voice, something heavy and resigned, like he knew... Knew Eugene wasn't going to be around.

They looked at each other, and understanding passed between them.

"There's a grove, a straight shot southwest of here,"' Eugene said. "It's the best place to find deer. Number's have thinned lately, but it's where I'd start. I have a bow and a couple arrows stashed there. It's...it's not hard to make more arrows. It just takes practice."

Carl nodded, frowning at his shoes as though they'd personally wronged him. And when he finally spoke, it was in a voice so quiet that Eugene barely heard him.

"I don't want you to go."

A knife twisted in Eugene's chest. He swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you have to, but...I don't want you to." Carl sniffled. "I want our family back. I'm so tired of losing people. I'm so fucking sick of it, just please...please come back."

He began to cry then and Eugene hugged him, feeling his own eyes needle with tears.

"I'll try my best," he said. "There is just too much nerdy shit I still need to teach you."

Carl laughed, low and broken. He was just a kid. He was just a kid.

"Who says I want to be a nerd like you?"

"It's too late, kid, you already are."

Judith squirmed in their embrace, crying out grumpily. Eugene leaned back.

"Sorry to crowd you, princess."

But Judith reached for him, wiping at the tears on his face. "No," she said.

He smiled slightly. "No tears?"

She shook her head and continued patting his cheek. "No."

"My apologies, ma'am."

The dim glow of the rising sun blushed along the eastern horizon, giving structure to the shadows. The world was turning just like it always was.

At that moment he became aware of a sound, distant but growing louder. His heart skipped, a rock over still waters.

 _Wait. He will come for you._

Carl jolted to his feet, his eyes wide with alarm. "Shit. Do you think that's them?"

Eugene stood, comforted by the weight of Mason's fire iron on his back. "Get Judith back to the house. Unfortunately I don't think your dad's getting that extra sleep after all."

"We'll meet you at the gate."

Carl hurried away without giving Eugene a chance to reply, without giving him a chance to say that he wished they wouldn't. He didn't have it in his heart for any more goodbyes.

So he said nothing as he drew the fire iron and strode for the gate.

 **Mason**

It was hours later when the door opened. Mason blinked coldly at AJ as he leaned into the doorway.

"How you doing?" he asked. His voice was so low she wondered if he'd been asked not to speak to her. In any case she didn't respond, and he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Boss wants to see you and Daryl."

Slowly she stood, ignoring the hand he offered. The right side of her face pulsed hotly but she refused to show any pain.

As she stepped out of the cell, she felt the strength of the assemblage behind her, ghosts of a dream or a dream of ghosts, she wasn't sure. Every one of them- Lori and Tyreese, Merle and Noah, Glenn and Abraham- whispering her name, telling her to fight.

Dwight waited outside with Daryl, but when she met Daryl's gaze it was like it was just the two of them. That deep line of understanding between them smoldered. Neither of them had to speak to know what the other was thinking.

 _We can't let them win._

Nobody said a word as they made their way to Negan's apartment, but the silence was strangely comforting. She was resigned. She was _resolved_. She and Daryl would fight or die together. They would get out together or they would go to their grave.

The apartment was spacious and cozy, with furnishings that seemed gaudy given the state of things. But she supposed acting as the murderous, tyrannical kingpin of a drove of bloodthirsty douchebags had to have its perks.

He was lounging on a low-backed couch when they entered, but he hopped to his feet with a grin that set her teeth on edge.

"How we doing today, folks? How's the pain on a scale of one to ten, Mason?"

Neither of them responded. They stood straight as soldiers next to each other, staring unflinchingly at him.

His grin became something dark.

"Have either of you thought about my offer? It still stands. Now normally I wouldn't be so accommodating, but I like you guys. I want to keep you. You really have no idea how lucky you are, Mason, that I took your ear. I could've taken your man."

His eyes glittered meaningfully but Mason refused to react. Eugene had taught her well. Her mask never faltered.

Negan chuckled before turning to Daryl. "What's your name?"

But he was met with unshakable silence.

"Nothing, huh?" His eyes flickered to Mason. "What about you, doll? Who are you? More importantly... _whose_ are you?"

She met his gaze without blinking, and though she said nothing her thoughts shouted so passionately she was certain he heard it, saw it blazing in her eyes.

 _Fuck you._

The smile disappeared, leaving behind something truly terrifying. He drew his gun and pressed it to Daryl's head. But though her pulse rushed with fear, she didn't move a muscle, didn't say a word.

Fury flashed in his eyes like lightning. "You know, kids, I really do not go for that silent treatment bullshit."

He pointed the gun at Mason's head instead, but Daryl stayed as still as a winter day.

 _We can't let them use each other as blackmail again or they win._

He looked at her, calm, quiet, and grabbed her hand.

 _We can't let them win._

"Well. That's really sweet, you two. That's really fucking _poignant_ but... See, Mason, when I said I could have taken your man? I didn't mean Daryl here. Now I wasn't expecting an easy victory today but I _was_ hoping for...Jesus, I don't know, some _emotion_. So I guess I'm going to have to employ a different method."

He snapped his fingers and Dwight opened the front door, admitting two men Mason recognized only as being present the night Glenn and Abraham were murdered. But she barely had time to register this, barely had time to think anything at all, because the person they carried between them was Eugene.

There was no concealing her emotions this time. They seethed within her, weakening her knees, flushing her skin with cold sweat. Eugene trembled as they forced him to his knees, for all the world a man conquered by terror.

But his eyes met hers. And there was no fear in them. The breath caught in her throat.

 _Best damn liar in the multiverse._

While her thoughts whirled, Negan leaned closer with a look of casual triumph. "This is who I meant," he said. "This is him, right? Your man? You and Daryl really had me going for a minute, but the way you looked at Eugene here... Well, there was no doubting _that_."

He reached behind the couch and drew Lucille, and her heart thudded agonizingly against her ribs.

 _Fuck. Fuck._

He strolled toward Eugene, smiling congenially at Mason. "Now I'm wondering if I can bring that look back," he said. "If I can break that poker face you got going on."

He swung the bat.

" _STOP_!" Mason cried, lunging to put herself between him and Eugene. But Dwight yanked her back before she could and in any case the bat paused just inches from Eugene's head.

Negan laughed. "That's what I'm talking about! Fuck yeah, baby!"

Mason cast a desperate look at Eugene but his eyes were darting about wildly, frenzied, apparently, by the proximity of his death.

But at his side, slowly, his fingers were forming symbols.

 _Quiet._

 _Hunt._

 _Fake them out._

Everything inside her stilled. He'd _wanted_ this to happen. He'd planned for it. Without knowing exactly what waited for him, he'd let himself get taken.

And suddenly, for a moment, it was just her and him and Daryl out in the woods, connected by their shared intention.

It was just a hunt.

 _Remember what you told me, Mason?_

Beth's voice, soothing as summer rain, wreathed around her.

 _Sometimes you need to fight quietly._

"Okay," she said. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye. "Okay."

Negan arched his brow expectantly. "I'm sorry, doll, but okay what?"

"I'll be...I'll be your wife."

" _No,_ " Daryl snarled, but Mason turned her gaze on him and hoped he read the steel in it. She would do this. She could do this. She had to.

 _Play the game._

Negan grinned viciously. "It's not enough just to say it, doll. I need you to _mean_ it."

Rage churned her stomach but she forced herself to remain calm. It was only then that she saw Eugene's face, the very real horror on it, and she remembered that he would've had no idea about the wife thing.

 _Trust me,_ she wanted to tell him. _This is how we win._

But she couldn't tell him that. Couldn't say anything at all. All she could do was make the symbol for _quiet_ and hope he understood.

Negan prowled toward her with a careless swing of his bat, and this time when he touched her cheek she didn't pull away. His eyes pierced hers.

"Mason," he purred. "I'd love you to be my wife. Do you want that?"

She muted the storm screaming within, the instinct to tell him to fuck off no matter the consequences, and let her veins turn to ice.

"Yes," she rasped.

"Who do you belong to?"

"Negan."

"Good girl," he said and kissed her.

Eugene shook with anguish but the set of his jaw, the glint in his eyes... He understood.

They weren't captives anymore, they were _spies_. They were deep in enemy territory. They had jobs to do.

When Negan pulled away, he waved a hand at Dwight and AJ. "Take these assholes out of here, we'll talk later. Mason and I need some _us_ time, if you catch my drift."

This last, he aimed specifically at Eugene.

It took everything in her not to lunge for Negan's throat.

She stood frozen as Dwight and AJ hauled Daryl and Eugene out of the room, her heart thrumming double time in her chest. She couldn't bear seeing them dragged away, but... She had to do this. She had her role to play.

As soon as the door closed, Negan seized her hand. "You made the right decision, Mason," he said. "I'm going to take care of you...so long as you take care of me."

His other hand touched her waist and she tried not to shiver. His face was so close to hers she couldn't breathe without tasting cigar smoke. Her stomach curled nauseously.

He grinned. "We'll work on your emoting, doll, don't worry."

He kissed her again, slow but demanding. She didn't fight it when he slipped his tongue in her mouth; she was concentrating too hard on not vomiting.

She didn't fight, either, when he pulled her to the bedroom, not when he pushed her onto the bed, not when he cupped her face in his hands and promised to be careful with her head.

 _Quiet._

 _Fight._

When his hands snuck beneath her shirt, she went somewhere very far away.

 **Eugene**

He sat alone in the cell next to Daryl's, stripped of everything but the butterfly bandage on his nose and the gauze on his left hand.

Everything inside of him was poisoned, toxic with rage, with guilt, with helplessness. Because he had come here, because he had wanted to play this game, Mason was...was...

His fists clenched so tight his bones ached.

He was going to destroy this place. He was going to skin them, burn them, bury them. Every single one of them, until Mason was free.

And Negan...

Death was too quick for that son of a bitch.

His veins smoldered, his stomach churned. His fingers shook as he reached for the wrappings on his left hand.

They thought he was helpless. They had brought him here with nothing but Mason's fire poker, which they'd promptly taken.

They thought he was a coward, enough that he had stood by and let Negan claim the love of his life.

They thought all this...and they thought that he'd cut his hand.

But as he pulled the last of the wrappings off to reveal his uninjured palm, the bullet glinted in the low light leaking from beneath the door, like a tiny, self-contained flame.

Let them think what they wanted to think.

He was the best liar in the multiverse.

And he was coming for them.

 **Alpha**

She followed the footsteps through the darkened trees, staying the urge to strike. Her curiosity had long since morphed into calculation, and now it was just a matter of presenting herself.

The Saviors' compound was close. Just being in these trees again... Alpha curled her lip.

But she couldn't let the Alexandrian get there. It would upset her precarious balancing act. Aiding Mason, aiding the Chemist and the Archer, that was already going to be a full-time job. She didn't need a fourth idiot throwing herself into the snake pit, but perhaps...

 _Use everything you can use,_ she thought.

So, fixing her face into one of terror, she stumbled loudly through the trees and threw herself to the ground in front of Rosita.

Rosita snapped into attack mode immediately, the moonlight glinting off the edge of her machete. Alpha cowered with a pitiful shriek.

"Wait, wait, please! Don't...don't hurt me, please!"

Suspicion darkened Rosita's pretty features. She did not break from her fighting stance as she hissed, "Are you alone?"

Alpha allowed a few tears to leak from her eyes. "Yes," she whimpered. "I...I am now. My people, they...they were killed."

"By what?"

"Other people. They called themselves the Saviors."

Rosita's eyes flashed. "The Saviors?"

Alpha nodded. "They took me hostage but I escaped..." She hid her face in her hands and pretended to sob.

After a long silence, Rosita belted her weapon. "Get up," she said. "I need you to take me there."

"No! You can't-"

" _I have to._ "

Alpha almost smiled at the fire in her voice. Instead she blinked in wide-eyed awe, as though she was enamored by such courage.

"Who are you?"

"Rosita. Who are you?"

Her mind whirled before landing on a name she liked. It was the little details that made lying fun.

"Leslie," she said. "And you can't just waltz into the Saviors' compound with a machete. But...I have a better way."

NOTE: Okay, so I just wanted to let ya'll know that after this chapter, there are only five chapters left of "Spirits", which is both exciting and nerve-wracking. BUT I do have plans for one last installment, the third in the trilogy, and it is going to diverge completely from TWD canon (nothing ridiculous, but still...I really hope that doesn't scare you guys away!) I might have a little bit more to say about it the closer we get to the end, but I don't want to give anything else away just yet. So until then, I hope you guys continue to enjoy this story and that you join me for the next one when the time comes. Much love, you guys.


	24. Castle

So first and most importantly, I just have to say THANK YOU to ya'll for your continued support and especially for your kind reviews. I really, truly do not know what I did to deserve you lovely people but you guys are seriously the best. Second, it's an Alpha chapter ya'll! It's always fun to write from her perspective but also always difficult, trying to keep her disjointed without making her completely absurd. The chapter title is "Castle" by Halsey (who is a musical _queen_ ), and I have to give a little shout-out to DampishPoet for suggesting the song, which helped me realize that this part of Alpha's story, that I originally intended to be part of a bigger chapter, needed it's own space. All that said, I'm very excited about the next few chapters and I hope you guys are, too. Much love, and let me know what you think!

24\. Castle

 **Alpha**

It took all of that first night to convince Rosita not to barrel straight into the Saviors' compound, and though she admired the woman's tenacity it was also extremely annoying.

Timing was everything in a strategy game. Saving your best moves for the exact moment when its impact would be greatest. That was something she had never struggled with.

She had a plan. Risky, but it was a plan. She could go right now and deliver guns to the Alexandrians like some kind of demented Santa Claus. But they weren't ready. They'd had weapons before and chose not to use them because they were still broken, still divided. And even with weapons, even after they had recovered from the shock of being forced to kneel at Negan's feet, she was well aware that most of them were likely to die. It wasn't that she necessarily had a problem with that...so long as they were able to inflict significant damage on the Saviors.

They just weren't ready.

Rosita, however, was so goddamn ready she just about made up for it. She was feisty. Alpha liked her.

She also wanted to wring her pretty little neck.

"If we were to talk to the Hilltop, maybe we could convince some of them to fight," Rosita said that morning over a breakfast of roasted squirrel. It was the fifth time she'd tried to broach the suggestion and Alpha was losing her patience.

But her voice was carefully honeyed, logical and worried, as she replied, "You said yourself that the Hilltop weren't fighters. They made that deal with your group to kill Negan's men for them because they couldn't do it themselves. It sounds like they wouldn't be much help, even if they were willing. Which I doubt, if they already kneel to him."

Rosita's lips pinched in frustration. "There must be others. Jesus said there were a shit ton of other groups... So where are they?"

Alpha's response was meticulously cherry-picked. "After Negan...after kneeling to him...they thought it best to keep to themselves. That's what my people did. Because if men like Negan are out there, if men like his men are, then who's to say the rest of them aren't the same? That's likely why you've never had issues with any others. And it means the same thing: we are on our own."

"Maggie and Sasha will fight," Rosita said, though Alpha noticed she flinched on the second name. Interesting. She remembered a few days ago, when she had spied on Rosita and the Chemist, that they had discussed a Sasha right before Rosita had given him the gloves and the necklace. She tucked the name away for future reference.

"That's only two people," Alpha reminded her. "Negan has close to three hundred."

Fear flickered in Rosita's eyes, but only for a moment. "But you said...you said they don't all live in the same place."

"No... They have different hideouts. But half of them stay at the compound with Negan. That's a good hundred and fifty at any given time."

Alpha offered up a genuine shiver. It wasn't a lie. From her short time spent at the Saviors' compound she had kept tabs on their numbers as much as she could. There'd been so many of them that she'd felt suffocated.

Rosita huffed. "I'm not giving up. I don't care how many people he has. They're all going to die."

 _Feisty._

"That's what my people thought," Alpha replied. "They underestimated the fighting force waiting for them."

Not entirely a lie, either. The Wolves had underestimated the Alexandrians. Severely.

It occurred to her then, as it frequently did, that it was Mason who had led her people that day. And it was the Chemist who had stepped up and become a warrior, who had given Alpha the burns on her face.

And now they were both in the Saviors' compound.

The thought almost made her smile.

The Saviors were in for a rude awakening.

"We underestimated those bastards once," Rosita growled. "Not again. Now are we going to look for guns or not?"

Stifling her irritation, Alpha nodded. "We may as well get started."

~m~

In three days' time they found only one gun, stashed beneath the roots of a tree along an abandoned road. Rosita's frustration was a third companion between them. Alpha was tempted to tell her that this was breaking the average, since these days most guns were already in someone else's possession, but that would have involved confessing that she already had five months' worth of guns. Of course a five month yield equaled only thirty-two guns, a drop in the bucket compared to the Saviors, but Rosita was so persistent... As such it was a tidbit of information she intended to keep to herself until the move needed to be played.

So there was nothing Alpha could say to improve Rosita's mood, but she had begun to wonder if there might be other ways.

On the fourth night, while they were lying side by side next to a low fire, Rosita spoke up tentatively.

"Did they do that to you?"

Alpha didn't ask what she meant. Absently she touched her burns. "I was caught off guard in a fight," she said. Halving a truth with a lie was the best method of deception. "Yes, they did this to me. They did a lot of things."

In her mind, briefly, she saw the flash of Feral's black hole eyes. The pain set her lungs on fire.

"When you were in their compound," Rosita said, "did you see...did you ever come across a Daryl or a Eugene? Did you ever see a woman named Mason?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Rosita pressed her lips into a thin line. Alpha glanced her with just the right amount of sympathy, just the right amount of knowing.

"Negan took them?"

"He did a lot of things," Rosita replied. Though her voice was quiet, a storm of emotion roiled within. Beneath the anger, beneath the fear, there was a deep well of sorrow, of guilt.

Of loneliness.

Alpha's eyes gleamed. It was just too easy.

She reached out and took Rosita's hand. After a moment, she began rubbing her thumb in slow, deliberate circles along her delicate wrist.

Rosita stiffened but didn't pull away. They turned to stare at each other for a long time, the snap of the fire reinforcing the tension that crackled between them.

Finally, Alpha leaned over to kiss her.

Rosita didn't react at first, but after a moment, as though she couldn't resist, as though she were collapsing, she wrapped her arms around Alpha's neck and kissed her back.

They smoldered slowly at first, like the first smoke of a long-sought flame. Rosita's movements were unsure, wary, so Alpha made her own gentle and encouraging in response. It was the first she'd done so since Mason. It took everything.

But Rosita responded to it, sighing with longing, with the pain of wanting something so badly and knowing it would be denied. Her fingers dug into Alpha's shoulders, pulling her closer. Alpha moved her lips to Rosita's neck, sucking deftly on the ridge of her collarbone.

She really was tantalizing, Alpha had to give her that.

She caressed the enchanting curves of her, her hips and the small of her back, her slender legs and the space between...

Rosita let out a shuddering breath. "I barely know you," she murmured, in a thick voice that betrayed tears.

Alpha resisted the urge to sneer.

 _Stop whimpering._

"We're teaming up to take down a homicidal despot," she said out loud, pruning her voice into one of breathy seduction. "I'm a little less concerned about what we get up to in the meantime. Besides I'm...I'm lonely."

After a heartbeat's hesitation, Rosita tightened her grip around Alpha.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

Too fucking easy.

So Alpha made love to her, splaying her out on the forest floor and diving between her legs. She had Rosita climaxing in minutes, moaning her lie of a name like it was a prayer, a plea. Alpha crouched over her in lazy triumph. She could eat pussy better than anyone. Getting Mason to scream had been her favorite game and apparently she hadn't lost her edge.

Afterwards, Rosita returned the favor. Her uncertainties inhibited her, but she was eager to please.

~m~

Days passed. They searched nonstop until the sun went down, and at night they fucked until they were hoarse. Rosita was desperate for it. Her hollowness was a dinner bell to Alpha. She luxuriated in the way Rosita bowed to her own desolation, the way she needed something else to fill it up.

"You're the first woman I've had sex with," Rosita admitted one night. "I always wanted to, but never... I was never allowed to be who I was."

Alpha nodded, biting back a smug grin. She'd thought it was something like that. Weak little sheep.

"My mom didn't approve of me being a lesbian," she said. "And she definitely didn't approve of my girlfriend." Not a lie. "Sometimes you just have to tell the world to fuck off."

Rosita laughed, the first Alpha had heard of it. The sound was unexpectedly sweet, the charming antithesis to her usual fire and steel.

"Thanks, I'll take that to heart."

Most nights, however, after Rosita fell asleep, Alpha would sneak away. They had kept the Saviors' compound at the center of their searching and if they were close enough she took the opportunity to gather what information she could. But she never saw a sign of Mason or the Chemist on these recon missions, and she might've given in to doubt except that she never saw their reanimated corpses guarding the compound, either.

Negan would want to keep them, she was sure of it.

But intel-gathering was not the sole purpose of these nights. The majority of her time was spent hunting cold bodies, wrangling them with the scent of blood- either her own or that of prey- and leading them to the old parking lot. Beta's trucks still remained there after all this time and she'd gathered enough cold bodies- close to eighty- to fill all but one.

She never brought Rosita along on these missions, for the same reason she suggested they continue scouting instead of trying to rally the Alexandrians. She couldn't allow Rosita to give in to fury, to bolster her people for a war they were currently ill-equipped for. Isolation was keeping her docile, or at least as docile as she could get.

Living outside of civilization had a funny way of reversing one's domestication while simultaneously shackling them with apathy. Alpha herself had stopped caring long ago about many things, nearly everything, except that she stuck around long enough to play with her food. That was what life had become, wasn't it? It was no different than the games her mother used to play with her viperous guests at dinner parties.

The days turned into weeks. They found three guns in addition to the first, but only one of them was a real war weapon. The others were simple handguns, and though they were better than nothing Alpha could feel Rosita's dissatisfaction growing.

One morning, this dissatisfaction came to a head.

They had decided to venture onto a small highway that cut through the woods, hoping, though likely in vain, that they might come across some weapons stashed in cars. The air was frigid, but Rosita's slight frame burned with frustration.

"I think we should look for other groups," she finally said.

Alpha stopped in her tracks, frozen for a moment with the effort it took to bridle her temper.

"No," she said slowly. "There are no groups that will help us."

Rosita scoffed. "And you're an expert?"

"I know more than you."

"Oh, really? Well, do you know that you're a self-righteous bitch? You said you had a plan."

Alpha's lip twitched in a faint snarl.

She didn't _need_ Rosita. Not really...

"Don't. Push me."

"Or what? What the fuck are you gonna do? Given your track record I'd venture a guess at _fucking nothing_."

Alpha whipped around, fully meaning to grab her by the throat, but at that moment a figure rushed out of the trees at them.

A man with a gun, or rather several. One handgun strapped to either leg, one rifle hung across his shoulder.

And one shotgun, aimed at them.

"Hands up," he said.

Reluctantly Rosita obeyed, pursing her lips as though he were only a mild inconvenience instead of a dangerous roadblock.

Alpha, however, dropped to her knees immediately, quaking with apparent terror.

"Please- please don't hurt us-"

"Shut up," the man said. "Give me your food and your weapons. Now."

"We don't have any food," Rosita growled. "And we're not giving you our weapons."

The man glared flatly at her. "Give them to me now, or I kill you."

"Please," Alpha wailed, though her insides roiled with barely contained excitement. "We're- we're not doing anything, just let us go."

The man's gun twitched in her direction. "This is how the world works now," he said.

She let out one more pathetic sob.

" _Please_ -"

Then her hand came up, jarring the gun up and away from her direction. It went off harmlessly into the sky. In the same fluid movement, she pulled the knife from her belt and stabbed the man in the groin.

He shrieked, dropping the gun as he fell to his knees. Alpha wasted no time in scooping it up, but she knew better than to waste a bullet.

She stabbed him in the head before he could take a breath for his next scream.

Once his body lay slumped on the ground, she stripped him of his guns and the knives stashed in his boots. It took her a moment to notice that Rosita was frowning at her.

"What?" Alpha's voice was an impatient bite.

Rosita shrugged tightly. "You remind me of a friend of mine," she said. "Weak on the outside, cunning as fuck at his core."

"Yeah? This friend, is he still alive?"

"As far as I know."

"You want him to stay that way? Then _listen_ to me." She stabbed a finger at the man bleeding out at her feet. " _That_ is why we can't risk looking for other groups. That little line he said, about the way the world works? He was fucking right. I have a plan but if you don't stay calm you'll fuck it all up."

Rosita huffed. "And what exactly is your plan, huh? You've kept it as cryptic as a goddamn sphinx for the past month but I _trusted_ you. I can see what he's done to you, I can see how badly you want to take him down. So trust _me_. You said yourself you can't just waltz in there alone. So stop keeping me in the dark."

Hastily, Alpha debated.

It was true, she didn't really _need_ Rosita...although her assistance at the end, on the day she intended the Alexandrians to make their strike, would make everything run more smoothly...

Not to mention the irresistible power trip of fucking her on the nightly...

After a long, tense pause, she loosed a sharp sigh. "If I show you this," she said, "you have to promise you won't do anything stupid."

Rosita narrowed her eyes. "I'm not promising anything."

 _Sly little sheep._

"At least promise you'll hear me out."

"Fine."

~m~

She pulled back tree limb after tree limb to expose the tiny little box truck hidden among the foliage. Rosita just watched with a stony expression, utterly unimpressed until Alpha opened the rear doors.

The thirty-two guns she'd scavenged all sat in an orderly configuration, like patient soldiers. There were seven boxes of various ammo stacked in a corner, and a hodgepodge of non-artillery weapons piled opposite.

It was not enough for a war, but shit, it wasn't nothing.

Rosita gaped at it all as though she'd stumbled upon a cove of pirate treasure- which, Alpha supposed, it sort of was.

"You had all this," Rosita finally breathed. "You had this all along."

"Yes."

"Why...why _the fuck_ didn't you tell me?" Rosita whirled on her, blazing with outrage. "My people...my people could have had weapons this whole time! What the fuck are you playing at?"

Alpha frowned. Her fingers twitched toward the knife on her belt.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to use this as an excuse to rush headlong into war."

"You _bitch_ -"

"I didn't tell you," Alpha spoke over her, "because who the fuck knows how many weapons the Saviors have. I didn't tell you because your people could _drown_ in all the blood the Saviors have spilled. I didn't tell you because it's _not_ brute force that's going to get you out of this. You. Need to _listen_."

She could feel the line blurring. Between who Rosita thought she was and her true self. Between Leslie and Alpha. Her thoughts were starting to fuzz a little at the edges.

Maybe things would be easier in the long run if she just slit Rosita's throat.

But those eyes. The fire in them. She'd decided to spare Rosita's life that first night for that fire alone. Much as it was a royal pain in the ass, she hated to destroy it.

Rosita watched her, unaware that her life hung under such debate. She was silent for a moment, burning with resentment, burning with rage. And something else...

"Alright," she finally said. "Fine. I'll listen. Just so long as the endgame is to help my people."

"It is," Alpha said. A lie and a truth. "When the time is right, we arm your people. And we won't need help from any other group because I'll be calling in a favor from some of my own friends."

"I thought all your people were dead."

"They are."

Rosita had the good sense not to ask any more questions.

~m~

The sex that night was more aggressive than usual. Alpha could feel the scorch of Rosita's emotions with every movement, every brush of her flawless skin. Clearly she was still pissed about the guns.

 _Don't worry,_ she wanted to tell her. _One day soon you'll have your guns, and your people and Negan's people can destroy each other as you see fit._

Rosita fell asleep without a word after they were done, and Alpha took the opportunity to do some dead gathering.

The moon was a hairline nick in the night sky. Waxing crescent. A time for change. A call to action.

In her mind, it played out perfectly.

The Alexandrians had their guns. They would attack the Saviors on the same night Mason and the Chemist and the Archer escaped. Alpha's cold bodies would fence the Saviors in from behind, to even out the odds for the Alexandrians. And in the end, they would all die.

This was why she had insisted that no other groups take part. Because if they provided aid to the Alexandrians there was every chance they would survive and then she would be back to square one. Back to scheming of some way to take down an entire group by herself, or else rustle up her own. Either way would take more time and effort than she particularly wanted to expend.

But if she could get them to kill each other...

And maybe...maybe she could use the chaos as cover. Yes. Yes, maybe she could seize Mason while the war was still raging...maybe the Chemist as well, if she were lucky.

And Negan.

Her blood surged at the thought, her eyes gleaming with wicked light. Her grip on her facade- on _Leslie,_ what a fucking ridiculous name- that grip was thinning, tattering. She felt wild. She felt worn. She had teeth and she needed to use them...

 _No,_ she thought. _Control. You need to stay in control._

Yes. Control.

But she was a queen. She was already in control.

 _You still have a job to do._

It took an effort. It took everything, but she reigned in her burgeoning mania at last.

A little bloodletting. That was all it was, all she needed. After bridling her true nature for so long, for one dangerously long month...

 _You are in control. Stay in control._

~m~

Several hours later, she returned to their makeshift campsite to find Rosita awake, sitting by the fire. She watched silently as Alpha approached, her expression like a winter flame. One hand rested, subtly, meaningfully, on the rucksack at her side.

The Chemist's rucksack.

The one Alpha had kept hidden in the cab of her box truck.

She froze several feet from Rosita.

"What did you do?" she said. Her voice was low and even. It didn't betray an ounce of the fury screaming within her.

"I took the guns to Alexandria."

The ire crackling in Alpha's veins fought to break free.

 _Kill her. Kill her._

"You're an idiot," she whispered. No screaming. She was too angry to scream.

Rosita barked a humorless laugh. "My people need to fight. I'm tired of wandering around. I need to help them."

"So why didn't you stay with them?"

In answer, Rosita held up the rucksack.

"Where did you get it?"

Alpha's eyes narrowed. She didn't hesitate.

"I stole it from Eugene."

Rosita pulled the gun from her belt and aimed it at Alpha.

"I stole it from him," she continued bitingly, "because he was about to do something stupid and get himself killed. Kind of like you when we met. He needed to get captured."

"Why?"

"To weaken them from the inside."

"Why should I believe you? How do I know you aren't working for Negan?"

"Because, you fucking idiot, if I _were_ , I would have taken you to him a month ago."

Rosita stared her down without blinking, without moving a muscle.

Just one more little lie, one more brief truth.

Alpha sighed. "I'm...sorry. I'm sorry I've kept so much from you. It was shitty, it was selfish. You don't have any reason to trust me, but...I can show you..."

Rosita's eyes tightened just the slightest bit.

"Show me what?"

Alpha did her best to look resigned, chagrined, regretful.

"It's not far. You can keep that gun on me if it will make you feel better but you won't need it."

Rosita got to her feet, slinging the rucksack over one shoulder. "I'll decide that," she said. The gun never wavered.

 _Wicked little sheep._

Alpha sighed again.

"Follow me."


	25. Greek Tragedy

Hey, guys. So, so sorry for the delayed update. Part of the reason for it is that this chapter is super long, much longer than I was expecting, although it was fun to work on. The other reason is because life has been really hectic lately. I won't bore you with all the details but long story short I just started a new job and it's really stressful so I've been kinda slacking on basically everything else. But, I've finally got this chapter out, so yay! The title is "Greek Tragedy" by The Wombats and it's...just...perfect. Love this one. Also, just a short little note about the timing: this chapter spans the same month as the last chapter, so everything that happens in it is happening at the same time all that shit's going down with Alpha and Rosita. Anyway, thank you all so much for your support, you guys are honestly the best. Hope you enjoy this one, let me know what you think!

25\. Greek Tragedy

 **Mason**

She didn't sleep that first night. He fucked her three times before finally dozing off, but she could not bring herself to close her eyes.

Everything was wrong. The lush darkness of the room, the too-soft mattress, the smell of sex and cinnamon hanging in the air, all of it felt like an assault on her senses.

He had fucked her.

He had _fucked her_.

 _Stop thinking about it_ , she told herself, but how could she not? How the fuck could she stop thinking about it? Unconsciously she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered into a ball.

She wanted Eugene.

Tears ran down her face. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound.

 _She wanted Eugene._

 _Shut up!_ she thought, clenching her teeth. _You won't ever see him again if you don't keep your shit together. Play the game._

And that was it.

That was the only thought that kept her from losing her mind completely.

~m~

Hours later, when morning arrived to find her bleary-eyed and sick to her stomach, Negan rolled over and sighed at the sight of her.

"Good morning, doll," he said with a sleepy smile.

She didn't respond. Her lungs felt like icebergs, heavy and frigid within her ribs.

He cocked his head, looking more amused than irritated. "You know, it is in fact both customary and encouraged for a husband and wife to exchange pleasantries."

She knew it probably wasn't wise, but she couldn't help muttering, "I don't remember saying 'I do'."

"Well, you'll forgive me if I've let the formalities slip a little since I now have seven of you. But if it'll make you feel better I'll get you a ring and a pretty little dress and everything. You can even wear white if you want, although after last night I'd say you're a far cry from pure."

His grin was vulpine. She tried not to cringe. Or vomit. Or whatever unpleasantness was flipping her stomach like a dying fish.

"So," he continued. "Ceremony? Or no?"

God, no. God fucking no.

She shook her head.

"Alright, then, just consider us officially unofficially husband and wife. And husbands and wives _talk_ to each other. C'mon, doll. Get in the spirit of things. You just won the fucking lottery and you're looking at me like I pissed in your coffee."

What the fuck did he expect her to say? Good morning, you cunt nugget?

His eyes glittered as her silence persisted. "Wait a second. You're not still stuck on mudflap, are you? A woman like you and a lowlife piss-body like that? Come to your senses, doll, you have to know you can do _leagues_ better."

The fury that boiled her blood was nearly irrepressible. Digging her nails into her thighs was the only way to keep from clawing his eyes out.

"Tell me it was pity," he drawled. "It was, right? You fucked him because you felt bad for him?"

He was trying to get a rise out of her. She knew it. But it still took everything in her not to take the bait.

"You did fuck him, right? That must have suck-"

"I don't think this is appropriate conversation for a husband and wife to have," she interrupted, her jaw so rigid that every word hurt.

 _play the game play the game play the game_

His lips curled over his perfect teeth, like he could read her mind. "You're right, my lovely concubine. Certainly not before breakfast."

Not bothering with any sense of modesty- and why should he, they had...they had _fucked-_ he hopped out of bed, utterly naked. She looked away, fighting back tears.

"I want you to know, Mason, that I really am sorry about your ear," he spoke while he dressed.

"Oh, you know... I just need it to hear," she replied.

"Well, then I guess you're lucky I didn't decide to take both. I didn't want to have to but you really didn't give me much choice. You know, this whole thing with your people and mine...it's a give and take."

"You mean we give and you take. Sounds more parasitic to me."

So quick she barely registered the movement, he whipped around and seized her chin. His eyes were cold.

"Better be careful or that pretty little mouth is gonna get you into trouble," he said. "You know, given the fact that I not only spared your life but Eugene's, I would have thought you'd have enough sense to feel _hella_ fortunate. I could have killed him. I could have carved him up right in front of you. I didn't. So say _thank you._ "

She refused to tremble, refused to blink. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

Roughly he let her go. Then he reached into his closet and tossed her one of his shirts.

"Throw that on and come with me. I'll show you to your apartment and send someone in with your breakfast."

She held up the shirt, too big for her, and blinked. "What about pants?"

"Nah, darlin'. Just the shirt and underwear. Trust me, you'll look damn sexy. Besides, it's not far."

Swallowing her rage, she obeyed and followed him out of his apartment. He led her down the hall and up two flights of stairs. They didn't pass many people but those they did she avoided looking at.

It was all to humiliate her, parading her through the halls in obvious post-sex attire, a cruel walk of shame. He was still trying to break her down. She wondered if he'd ever stop, if there would ever come a point when there was nothing else in her to break...

 _You won't get to that point. He won't break you._

Ignoring the fact that she was fractured in so many places.

Ignoring the fact that he had come so close.

She was just glad they didn't run into Eugene. She didn't think she could handle that. She didn't think Eugene could have, either.

Her apartment was much like his, though furnished only with a couch and a bed. After he led her inside he grabbed her hand, and wrong, it felt wrong, it wasn't his fingers that belonged with hers, but she didn't pull away.

"Make yourself comfortable. Someone'll be by with food and clothes and other essentials. Spend the day relaxing. You used up a lot of energy last night. Or you can get to know your surroundings if you prefer. I will unfortunately be busy all day _but_ I intend on seeing you tonight."

She flinched. "You want...you want me wandering around?"

His eyes smoldered with dark amusement. "If you want," he said. "You're not a prisoner here, Mason. Not anymore."

She didn't dare tell him as he walked away that that was fucking bullshit.

~m~

AJ showed up fifteen minutes later with a tray of food and a laundry basket of clothes and various paraphernalia. She sat on the couch with her breakfast, but though it smelled delicious she didn't eat it.

Eugene, she knew, was likely not getting the same treatment. The thought made her stomach churn.

AJ leaned against the wall by the door, watching her through narrowed eyes. "You on a hunger strike?"

She eyed him coldly and said nothing.

"You shouldn't be. You'll need to keep your strength up."

She stiffened. "For what?"

Instead of answering, he said, "There's ibuprofen in the basket. For your ear. I imagine the doc'll want to take a look at you to check for infection." He held up his left hand, and for the first time she realized that he was missing a finger. "I have a little experience with that myself but the doc's a good guy. Scared shitless, but aren't we all."

"Did he do that to you?" she asked quietly. She didn't have to explain that she didn't mean the doctor.

"Simon did it," AJ said and she blanched. Remembering that name, remembering that night...

"Why?"

"Because I was like you."

He didn't give her a chance to ask what he meant. He exited the apartment, leaving her with one last parting command.

"Eat."

 **Eugene**

They kept him in the cell for two days, blasting a perfectly puke-worthy song that, if he'd had access to a knife, a pen, fucking _chopsticks_ , he would have impaled his own ear drums.

Daryl was in the cell next door, he knew that much, but the walls were too thick to talk. He couldn't even tap out Morse code, not that he was sure Daryl knew any.

Dwight came by twice each day with a meal of dog food and moldy bread, and glared at him as though he remembered each time he saw Eugene that his dick had nearly been bitten off.

So that was a bright spot.

But otherwise his time was spent in an endless cycle of guilt and rage and worry.

How long were they going to keep him in this cell? Days, weeks, months? Until he died?

Well, that just wouldn't do.

So he began to scheme how he might escape if the need arose. It would likely be easy enough- lure Dwight and whatever bodyguard came with him into the cell, take the bodyguard's weapon and shoot them both. The timing was the issue. He knew virtually nothing about the layout of the compound, about where Mason was, about where the keys were to Daryl's cell. Break out too soon and he risked not only capture, but more restrictions and possible punishments for Mason and Daryl.

But on the morning of the third day, instead of leaving him with his dubious meal, Dwight tossed some clothes and a pair of shoes into the cell and motioned for Eugene to get dressed.

"Negan wants to talk to you," he said.

Eugene said nothing as he pulled on the grungy sweatpants, the sweatshirt that smelled like someone else had worn it, suffered in it, despaired in it. He said nothing as he stepped out of his cell. He relished the tense silence, the loathing in Dwight's eyes.

 _You are going to hate me so much more than you can imagine before this is over._

Without making it obvious, he took note of every turn, every doorway they passed on their way to Negan's apartment. He cataloged the people and the things they said, they way they interacted with each other. Anything could end up being useful.

Except Dwight didn't end up taking him to Negan's apartment. He led him past that, down several flights of stairs, and through a fire exit. The outside air was startlingly cold, and his worn clothes did little to protect him from it. He wrapped his arms around himself with a little shiver.

"Man up," Dwight sneered, looking far too pleased in his thick jacket. Eugene bit back a sharp retort and followed him, through the cluster of walkers guarding the compound, through the outer gate and out into the woods beyond.

He went still when he spotted Mason, standing next to Negan amid the trees. She said nothing and her expression never changed, but he saw the fear in her eyes.

"Man, every time I see you, I am just _astounded_ at that damn hair!" Negan crowed by way of greeting. "I have gotta ask, what made you decide on that incomparable style? It couldn't have scored you any points with the ladies."

 _I don't know, Mason seems to like it._

The words very nearly left his mouth before his better sense reeled them in. "Because I like it," he said simply.

Negan shook his head in disbelief. "You are a card, ain't ya, Texas?"

"So I've been told on multiple occasions."

"I don't doubt that."

Negan unslung a roll of rope from his shoulder and tossed it to Dwight, who grabbed Eugene and began tying his wrists together.

Mason twitched. "What...what are you doing?"

"We're going hunting," Negan said cheerfully. "The deadwall's thinned a bit lately so we are going to replenish it."

"We're hunting walkers?"

"Huh. _Walkers._ I'mma start using that shit... Anyway, gorgeous, yes. You and I are hunting walkers."

Mason swallowed hard and pointed at Eugene. "So why is he here?"

"Well, you can't set a trap without a little bait."

Dwight yanked on the other end of the rope, leading Eugene forward. Mason shook her head, wide-eyed.

"No. They'll...they'll come to us anyway, you don't need him."

"Of course I don't need him," was Negan's only reply before he took out his knife and grabbed Eugene's bound hands. Eugene had long since re-wrapped his left hand, the bullet tucked safely inside it, but his heart kicked up a notch at Negan's sudden examination.

"Looks like you're gonna have to wrap this other hand, too," he said before slicing open Eugene's palm.

Eugene hissed through his teeth, but he held still as the blood trickled down his wrist.

"You didn't have to cut him," Mason growled. "You don't need to do any of this."

"But it's more fun this way."

Dwight handed the rope to Negan and walked away without a word, though he did throw Eugene a satisfied smirk that conveyed more than enough. Eugene nearly told him to go fuck himself before he remembered the role he was playing. Putting on his best terrified face, he appealed to Negan instead.

"Please. Sir. You- you don't need to do this. I...I-I will-"

"You will shut your damn pie hole unless you want Lucille to face fuck you. And she does not go gentle into that good night, let me tell you."

Obediently Eugene fell silent, although everything in him raged against it. He hunched in on himself to make it look as though he was scared and helpless.

"Come on, you two, don't look so glum!" Negan said. "Now, Eugene, buddy, I'm gonna need you to walk in front of me while I hold your leash. Just pretend you're a dog and I'm your master, it's not like it's far from the truth anyway."

Mason and Eugene shared the briefest, clandestine look, one of utter outrage, before Eugene took the lead.

Several minutes passed while they scoured the woods, Negan tugging occasionally on the rope to guide him in a different direction, but finally they came across a knot of walkers. Instantly alerted by the smell of Eugene's blood, they turned, snarling, and began to lumber toward them.

Against his will, his heart faltered in his chest. Would Negan have him executed like this, in front of Mason?

She wouldn't handle that. She couldn't handle that. He knew it. Not after everything...

He jerked against the rope, feeling it chafe, break the skin, scrape out new blood. The walkers closed in and Negan laughed.

"Better protect him, Mason. Don't want to have to waste the time it'll take to fetch new bait, right?"

"Give me a weapon!" she screamed but he just grinned cruelly.

With a snarl of frustration, she grabbed a rock off the ground and lunged at the walkers, and this time Eugene did not have to fake his terror. Desperately he pulled at his restraints, the instinct to fight at her side dizzying him.

Luckily Negan seemed to mistake it for cowardice, because he laughed and flicked Eugene on the back of the head.

"I wouldn't try it, tophat. You're much safer here with us than you are on your own."

Mason heaved the rock up into the closest walker's jaw, sending it stumbling back, while a second one staggered into its place. She crushed this one's skull.

"I want them alive," Negan called lazily.

" _Then get out here and do it yourself, asshole_!"

She didn't stop, however. They were too close and she was already neck-deep among them.

So she began breaking their legs. She began breaking their arms. She impaled one of them to the forest floor with the bone of another.

But though she held her on, several of them slipped past her, fixated on Eugene's bleeding palm, his wrists.

Negan didn't make a move to stop them. Eugene gritted his teeth and kicked the first one away, then the second, then the third. One of them he was able to kick hard enough that its leg bone snapped. When it fell to the ground, he stomped the heel of his boot through its head.

But the others kept returning, and the odds of his luck eventually running out...

"Tick-tock, sweetheart," Negan caroled.

It was then that two of them fell on Eugene at once. He managed to kick one of them away but there was no time to do the same for the second. As it descended toward his bound hands he swung them up, bracing them against the walker's throat. It snarled and snapped, mere inches from him, pawing at his arms...

A furious roar announced Mason's arrival, and a heartbeat later there she was, bashing in the walker's skull with her rock. It fell away from Eugene, splashing his face with blood. She turned her attention on the other walker. She was so absorbed in beating its head into a pulp that she didn't notice the last one lurching toward her.

Coming up on her deaf side.

" _Mason_!" Eugene shouted.

She looked up, but there was not enough time for her to scramble to her feet. She raised her hands to catch the walker as it swooped in and held it up by its chest.

A moment later, its brains sprayed out of the side of its head.

Mason and Eugene froze, both of them breathing hard as if they'd just resurfaced from deep waters. She held the walker's slumped body while its blood gushed onto her chest.

Negan whistled and belted his gun. "That was quite a show," he said. "And look, you caught me...five, six, seven- _seven_ walkers! Nice job, you two."

Slowly Mason turned to look at him, shock and fury storming in her eyes. Quickly, Eugene made the symbol for _quiet._

Calm. She needed to stay calm.

She tempered her expression with a blink...

Only for it to return in full force when Negan continued, "Too bad I don't really need them."

" _What_?" Mason's voice was a blade cleaving through the winter air. Her eyes were twin sparks, promising violence. "You had us risking our lives out here for _nothing_?"

"Oh, no, doll," Negan replied. "Not for nothing."

~m~

"So that little display out there...I wouldn't really call it an eye opener so much as a confirmation."

Eugene stood alone before Negan in his apartment. His palm and his wrists had been patched up, and Mason escorted back to the apartment where she now apparently lived. The absence of her was excruciating. A wound left untreated.

But nothing showed on his face. It was a perfect mask, always.

"You know, I actually like you, hockey hair," Negan continued. "There's something about you that I find just as delightful as a cocaine squirrel...whatever the hell that means. My old man used to say shit like that and I guess I just kinda picked it up from him but that's neither here nor there because, unfortunately, no matter how much I _like_ you, I am skeptical about the future of our relationship."

Eugene's lungs tightened just a bit, but his face remained impassive. "How's that?" he asked, like it wasn't obvious.

"Buddy. Come on. You don't strike me as an idiot, aside from your questionable fashion sense. Mason, my doll, my new little queen...for as much as she's trying, I know she's only trying for you. I saw the way she was with you today. And I get it, I really do. You and her had a thing before, and it's hard to move on."

Negan paused, and his eyes glittered. "But you _will_ move on, both of you. In some form or another. Because her and I? I think we're going to get along _famously._ Once she gives me a chance, of course. I see a part of me in her, if you'll forgive the innuendo."

Rage sparked in Eugene's stomach but...

 _play the game play the game play the game_

"You and her? I'm sorry, but how in the fuck did that _ever_ happen? She is a badass and you...are just... _there_. Now I know that may sound cruel, but I call it how I see it. If you want to make yourself a future here, a _real_ future, you're gonna need to accept what I'm telling you... And you're gonna need to tell me just how it is you made it this far. I want to know what you can do for me, if there's _anything_ you can do for me. So far I am not impressed."

For just a second, one awful, illimitable second, he remembered that day he met Abraham. The day he'd come up with the Lie. He felt sick, he felt sick, but...

"I'm a scientist."

Negan stared at him. "...You're a _scientist_?"

"I was a biotechnology chemist down in Houston."

"Well, how long were you planning on keeping _this_ shit from me? That is some shit I can work with!" Negan threw an arm around Eugene's shoulder just as easily as if they were old pals. "So that's why Mason ended up with you. She was just thirsty for a little scientist nookie. Well, I can understand _that_ , that's kinky."

Eugene looked at the floor, feigning humiliation. "The others in my group only kept me alive as their problem-solver. They...they never would have accepted me otherwise."

The lie stung coming out, but it sounded effortless. Genuine.

Negan frowned. "Well, they're assholes, Eugene. I promise you, you're going to be happier here then you ever were with those sorry shits. All you have to do is play ball."

Eugene glanced at him. The wretched, pathetic veil he put up never wavered. "Yes, sir," he said. "I intend to."

 **Mason**

AJ came by to see her later that night, bearing a bowl of fruits.

"I picked them myself, so they're fresh," he said earnestly.

Unimpressed, Mason stepped aside to let him in.

"Did Negan send you to keep tabs on me?"

AJ handed her the bowl and began drifting around the room, looking back and forth as if he expected to find someone hiding though there literally was no place to do so. "No," he answered. "But I will tell you now that everyone's watching anyway, and they will report back to Negan at the first sign of disloyalty."

"Thanks for the tip."

"You gonna eat those fruit?"

"Why the fuck... You poison them or something?"

"Yes, they're all poisoned. Girl, chill. I just think you would really enjoy them, particularly the ones _at_ _the bottom_."

Mason narrowed her eyes. She reached into the bowl, and when her fingers brushed against a scrap of folded paper her heart stilled. AJ watched as she plucked it out and began to read.

 _If you have something important to say it's always best not to say it out loud in this place. Everybody here is a nosy fucker._

 _Negan will not trust you or Eugene completely until he thinks you have no loyalty to each other. That's what this morning was about._

Mason looked up and said, with all the cool mildness Eugene had taught her to adopt, "Do you have a pen? It's fucking boring in here with nothing to do."

With a smirk, AJ reached into his jacket and procured a pen. "I'll bring up some notebooks so you don't have to write on the walls."

"Okay, but how else did you think I was going to decorate?"

Quickly she scribbled out a reply under his handwriting.

 _Why are you telling me this?_

"I can help you," he said, and she thought this was his answer until he added, "I'm only good at drawing dicks, though."

His written reply was short and sweet: _I want out._

"Well, what else does one draw on the walls?" she said.

She wrote, _How can you expect me to trust you? How do I know this isn't some convoluted trap?_

It took longer for him to write out this reply, but when he did he slid the paper into her hand as though he were handing her something fragile and infinitely valuable.

 _You don't have to trust me. You can stay here forever if that's what you want. But I'm pretty sure it's not. I will try to get out with or without you, but why not work together?_

She stared at it for a long time, weighing the words, weighing his vibe. What if it was a trick? What if he was just as good a liar as Eugene?

Her heart began to race.

What if everything he'd done since she'd gotten here had been some elaborate set-up- attacking Tyler, befriending her? Was anything real in this place? Could she trust anything in this place?

 _Stop._

She closed her eyes and breathed out.

 _You're being paranoid. You're panicking. Stop._

She flattened the paper against her palm and wrote, _Why do you think you can trust me?_

When AJ read this, he laughed. But there was no humor in his eyes. "I was like you," he answered. "I'll be back with those notebooks soon."

~m~

Two days passed before she was able to enact her plan. She spent her free time writing poetry in the notebooks AJ provided, roaming the compound as Negan had suggested, and drawing maps of the halls she explored. She'd thought before that Negan hadn't been concerned about her learning her surroundings because he knew she would never leave without Eugene and Daryl. But it wasn't just that. There were so many _people_. And they all watched her, like she was something to be cautious of, like they were deciding whether she was predator or prey.

She didn't see Eugene until the third day. She was on her way to the cafeteria, where she'd decided to eat for the first time in an attempt to escape from the monotony of her empty apartment. Her heart fluttered when she spotted him, standing in the hall with Negan and Simon. He was no longer wearing the drab white of the cell uniform but a pair of dark gray pants and a black button-up shirt.

He was dressed like _them_.

The sight put a knot in her stomach, and it filled her with enough resolve to march toward them, fix him with her fiercest glare, and say, "Stop looking at me like that."

He blinked, taking in her fiery expression, her shadowed eyes, and her hand, which was frozen in a symbol at her side.

 _Fake them out._

His eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

"Like I betrayed you or something. Like I'm a slut."

Negan and Simon were watching now, eyebrows raised like they'd just reached the plot twist of a particularly entertaining movie.

Eugene's face was fixed in a cold mask. He was so good at playing the game.

"If you don't want me to look at you like that," he said, "then don't give me a reason to."

"Oh, _fuck you_ and your beta male bullshit." A folded piece of paper slid down from the sleeve where she'd stashed it and into her palm. "I told you, from the beginning. I told you it wasn't going to mean anything."

"So, what, you just decided it would be fun to pretend that it _did_?"

"You wanted me to protect you. You were pathetic and and you needed a friend. Excuse me if I thought I deserved an easy fuck."

"Well, look at the pot calling the kettle black."

She lunged then, shoving him up against the wall. "You think you're a big man now with your new friends and your new clothes?" Her eyes drilled into his and she prayed he understood. "Fucking _fight me_ then, asshole. _Fucking fight me_."

He always understood her. He always understood.

He grabbed her arm, pushing her away before wrenching it behind her in a move Abraham had taught him. She let out a snarl of outrage and fought back. It was easy enough to allow a trickle of tears to cut a path down her cheeks. She hated this, she hated it, but it was the only way...

At some point in the scuffle, she pressed the paper into his hand. He took it without a twitch of reaction.

"Alright, kiddos. As enjoyable as this is, let's break it up."

Negan and Simon pulled them apart, though it took a bit of wrestling to tear Mason away. Her face was contorted with anguish, her teeth bared like a feral animal, and she didn't let herself relax even when Negan whispered in her ear that he'd prefer not to clean blood off the floor.

Eugene stared back at her, frigid and tight-lipped, but she saw the love behind his eyes, the agony that matched her own.

"Hey, Simon, you wanna give me and Mason a minute here?" Negan said.

"I'm fine," Mason growled as Simon led Eugene away.

Negan held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, darlin', you're fine. Can't I just want a minute alone with you?"

So she followed him to his apartment, burning with what she had just done, hoping that it had been enough. She was unsurprised when he ushered her into the bedroom; it was habit now to sit on the bed and wait for him to do whatever he was going to do.

She could have stopped the tears, but she didn't let herself. It was too genuine. People didn't cry for no reason.

"So," Negan said, plopping down next to her. "What the fuck was that?"

She didn't say anything. She wanted him to believe she was swaying to his side but she couldn't do it too quickly or it wouldn't be believable.

"Come on, wifey, remember what I said? We're supposed to talk to each other."

"I don't particularly feel like talking about shit that doesn't matter," she ground out. "Especially not to you."

"Mason." He waited until she looked at him. "When are you going to trust me?"

She almost laughed. Almost punched him. _Trust_ him? Fucking cocksucker.

Instead she looked him in the eyes and dredged up her training. She could hear, painfully distinct, Eugene's voice in her head: _Mind your tells. Don't fidget. Eye contact._

 _Remember the character you're playing._

"Stop," she said. "Just...don't. Don't try and pretend you really give a shit."

He laid a hand on her knee, and it felt so obscene her stomach twisted. "Look, I know we didn't have the best start," he said. "I get it, I really do. I wish shit could've gone down differently. But, doll, you have to start seeing yourself properly. To get so bent out of shape over Eugene, I mean...the guy may be a scientist, but I wouldn't kill myself over him."

She almost jolted with surprise. So Eugene had resurrected the Lie. Sneaky son of a bitch.

"How do you know what I should do?" she snapped. "You barely know me. And he...he was my _friend._ "

She let herself bleed when she said it. She let every ounce of pain from the past few weeks soak her words, and then she heaved a broken sigh.

"I don't want you to say anything. Please. Just this once. Don't say a fucking word."

She didn't give him a chance to respond before kissing him, rough and desperate, locking her disgust in a cage. One hand fisted in his hair, the other grabbed the front of his jeans. He jumped at her touch with a sharp gasp, which transformed quickly into a growl.

And she knew she had won, she knew she had played her part impeccably, when he laid down beneath her and didn't say a word while she fucked him.

 **Eugene**

He knew it had been necessary. He was unbelievably proud of her for such a convincing show. Still, it took hours for his stomach to stop rolling with guilt. All that saved him as he roamed the compound with Simon was the paper up his sleeve, and the effort it took not to break down and read it then and there was nearly overwhelming. Only when he returned to his new apartment that night did he dare take it out, his heart racing as he opened it.

Mason's handwriting broke his heart. He wanted her. He wanted to sleep next to her, listen to her iPod while she read poetry, drink tea with her on a dawn-lit rooftop...

Blinking back tears, he began to read.

 _Hey, Gene Bean,_

 _I'm sorry. If you're reading this, then that means I probably just got done pretending to kick your ass. Of course I guess it wouldn't take much pretending, huh?_

He laughed, the first he'd done since the day Maggie had fallen ill.

 _If I know you, then you've already figured this out, but the less attached to each other we seem the safer we'll be here. AJ told me that's what that morning with the walkers was about._

 _I know we want to escape, but while we're here, we need to learn everything we can about these people. For Alexandria. We're spies now._

 _I've drawn out a map on the back. The X's are the places where I think the armory might be kept, but I don't know for sure. AJ says that only certain people are allowed to know, just like only certain people are allowed keys to the cells._

 _He also said that anything worth saying around here is best not said out loud._

 _If you find anything out, find a way to tell me and I'll do the same._

 _I love you. Stay safe. We are going to get out of this._

 _\- May_

He examined the map scrawled on the back, looked it over and over again until his head hurt, because at the bottom she had written two words in all caps.

 _BURN THIS._

When he had memorized all of it, not just the map but every flourish of her handwriting, he burned the note in his bathroom sink.

 **Mason**

And so life became a room of familiar windows.

Through one were the mornings she spent drawing maps from memory and then burning them.

Through another were the lunches she took in the cafeteria, enduring the jealous, suspicious gazes of the other wives.

Most of her time was spent either with Negan or with AJ. She hardly ever saw Eugene, and when she did it was from a distance. She never sought him out- too dangerous- and checking on Daryl was a risk she couldn't take, much as it frustrated her.

Negan took her out some days to patrol in the woods, though it was mostly to ply her with questions and watch her kill walkers. "I'm keeping you separate from the other women. If my men do something particularly awesome, I let them...spend some quality time with a wife of their choosing," he told her, and it had been a struggle not to look horrified. "But I'm not ready to share you just yet. You're my war-wife."

Nights when he chose her to warm his bed, she was flawless. She did everything he wanted, and never once did he doubt her sincerity. She wasn't dumb enough to pretend that she was suddenly magically in love with him, but physically? He thought she was addicted. He thought she fucked him so passionately because of the rift between her and Eugene.

Other nights, her thoughts were madness. Other nights she expected her thoughts to eat her alive. And on those nights when she thought she was going to lose it, when she thought her mind might dissolve into a hurricane, AJ sent a spark of sunshine through those windows.

He kept her updated on Daryl, though he wasn't able to see him often. He told her about the Saviors that he knew, their personalities and things to watch out for. Though she wasn't surprised, a good majority of what he told her horrified her. But the rest of their time together they spent sitting on the floor of her apartment, bullshitting and drawing dicks on the walls, just as they'd promised. For her sanity. For some semblance of normalcy, however fragile. She began to think of him as a friend.

It was AJ who showed her to the exercise room. After she mentioned how much she loved running, how much she missed it, he took her there the next day. It was like being thrown a life preserver in the middle of an endless ocean.

She saw herself through all these windows, different facets of herself, and none of them were true. Not one. Everything she had become in this place were layers of a lie.

Except when she was running.

It galled her that she had to ask Negan to use her own iPod, but it was a small sacrifice for one or two hours of escape. When she ran, she gave herself over completely to her body, her muscles and the music, her blood and sweat. She utilized the weights and punching bags as well, though not as often. She didn't want anyone to get ideas about her true intentions.

 **Eugene**

He gained the trust of some of Negan's top men surprisingly quickly. They led him around like tour guides, revealing to him the inner workings of the compound, oblivious to the fact that he was silently analyzing the best ways to murder them. He was to be the Saviors' handyman and their own personal chemist, and though he had yet to show them anything particularly useful they were impressed by his skills nonetheless.

And yet, despite this, there were still things he was barred access from.

He was not allowed down in the basement where the cells were kept. He was not allowed outside without an escort.

And he was not allowed a gun.

This was perhaps the most frustrating part of the role he played, that they thought him so utterly incapable of wielding a weapon with any sort of success. He could entertain them all he wanted with purple fire and Lichtenberg figures, but outside of his role as chemist he was nothing.

After getting himself into Negan's good graces he'd been returned the possessions they'd confiscated from him, which included Abraham's gloves. He wore them all the time for two reasons.

The first was to hide the bullet, which, without a gun, had grown weightier and weightier in his left hand.

The second was to hide notes to pass along to Mason whenever he found the chance, which was not often. He could not simply slide them under her door, as Negan made a habit of barging in whenever he pleased. Instead, when he could, he used AJ as a conduit, though he saw him about as much as he saw Mason. More often than not they spoke through silent signals.

Sometimes these communications were to exchange intel, although this dwindled as time went on. The armory and the keys were the real treasures for which they suffered and lied and whored themselves, yet these things remained practically unattainable. He was beginning to think they'd have to resort to something drastic just to find them, which he spent a significant amount of time worrying over.

No, most of their exchanges were simply to encourage each other, to keep the fire lit in each other's bellies.

To remind each other of who they were when they thought they might lose themselves.

Still, any and all of their interactions were so rare that it surprised him when, after several weeks, Negan invited both him and Mason to sit in on a meeting with his inner circle.

It was a run-of-the-mill inventory meeting, no real interesting information shared, but it was exciting all the same. Because Negan now trusted them both enough to include them.

And because he got to see Mason.

They played their roles immaculately, regarding each other with enough cool dislike that Negan warned them that he didn't want to see any fur flying.

But above the table, when no one was watching, their fingers formed symbols.

~m~

He was sitting in the cafeteria with Simon, fielding questions about the possibility of adding homemade explosives to their arsenal, when he heard the gunshots. They came in a flurry so quick that at first he didn't register what they were. Then a second volley sounded and he leapt to his feet, his heart clenching so tight he thought it might be trying to implode.

He vaguely heard Simon barking at him to stay inside- because he was the scientist, he was the nerd who couldn't defend himself, right, of course, if they only _knew_ \- but his mind was mud. His only thought was of Mason, wondering where she was, if she was okay.

The gunfire didn't continue for very long. It doubled, reached its climax, and then suddenly cut off. When the Savior guardsmen strolled inside to report to Negan, he knew by their smug expressions that they must have won.

When Mason trailed in with them, he should have been relieved. For a moment, he was. She wasn't hurt, she didn't even have any blood on her.

But then he saw her face.

The horror in it, the disbelief, hollowed out a piece of him. Whatever had happened had left her alarmingly unsteady. Her machete- like him she was not allowed a gun, though he wondered if that would change- hung limply in her hand.

He didn't dare approach her, not with so many eyes watching. But he met her gaze from across the room.

Her free hand flashed the briefest symbol, one that filled his bones with ice.

 _Home._

~m~

"God only knows where they found so many guns so quickly. But they weren't expecting the outer walls to be so impenetrable," Simon said.

All the seats at the table were taken for this meeting. Eugene and Mason had been chosen to sit council among them, though they'd been given little opportunity to speak as Simon and Negan snapped at each other.

"I want a crew sent to the Kingdom immediately," Negan said. "See if those assholes are missing any guns."

Eugene and Mason frowned at each other without ever quite looking at each other, a skill they'd honed over the past month.

The Kingdom? Who in the hell was that?

The look of doubt on Simon's face bordered on disdain. "You don't really think Ezekiel would be stupid enough-"

"I'm sorry, did I make that sound like an open-ended request? Because I meant it as a _get-this-done-or-it's-your-nutsack_ kind of thing."

Simon's eyes flickered with rage, but he just nodded. "Of course. My apologies."

"Now." Negan held Lucille across his lap as though she were a beloved pet; he regarded her broodingly for a moment before turning to Eugene. "It's time for you to prove that you've got hair where it really counts. It's time for a little...reunion."

Eugene blinked. Across the table, Mason went absolutely still.

"I don't follow..." he said slowly.

But he did. Fuck him to hell, he did.

"Well, obviously we can't let this little temper tantrum fly, I mean your people...they just don't fucking learn, do they? _But_. I like you. And I obviously like Mason. If you came from them, then maybe- just maybe- they're still salvageable. I'm giving them one more chance. _One_. And in order to drive this home, in order for them to truly _appreciate_ what I'm doing for them, the benefits they can reap from a relationship with me, I want you as my emissary."

Every cell in Eugene's body became a shard of ice. He didn't look at Mason but he could feel her horror radiating across the table.

"Now, as my emissary," Negan continued, "I will require you to be...assertive. No more rolling over for those unappreciative bastards. I want you to display to them in no uncertain terms that this is their last chance."

Threaten them. He wanted Eugene to threaten his own people, his _family_.

But what could he say? Refusing would undo all of the work, all of the sacrifices of the past month.

Besides, he didn't think Negan was really asking anyway. Another test, just like the walkers.

So, swallowing his revulsion, swallowing up the part of him that screamed against it, he nodded and said, "Yes, I think you're right."

 **Mason**

It took everything in her not to stand up and scream, not to reach across the table for Eugene and just run, damn the consequences. But she knew as she met his gaze- fleetingly, painfully brief- that there would be no breaking his resolve. He knew what he was agreeing to, the sacrifice he was making.

She couldn't concentrate after the meeting. She found herself pacing back and forth in her living room, which still remained sparse despite Negan's offer of furniture. She tried to distract herself with other important questions, like where in the fuck had her people gotten the guns? Had they indeed gone to this Kingdom to get them?

Were they alright?

She hadn't seen anyone get shot during the firefight. She hadn't seen much of anyone at all, except the backs of them as they retreated. The memory still horrified her, the fact that her role as Negan's war-wife required her to jump in to defend this place, these people.

 _Traitor._

Eventually the silence of her room, the space it gave her thoughts to shriek, was too much to bear. She left to find Negan to ask for her iPod, though she wondered if even her music would be enough to distract her.

She met them coming out of his apartment, Eugene and Simon striding shoulder to shoulder in the grimmest monochromes. Eugene wore a black overcoat over his all-black attire, but it was his hair that had her sucking in a sharp breath, as though she'd been kneed in the stomach.

They had lopped off his mullet, leaving only a short, severe style that made him look elegantly cruel. And looking at him, at the stony expression he wore to match his new make-over...

It was like looking at one of them.

Her steps faltered for a split second and then resumed. She had to act normal. She had to act as though she didn't see them at all.

Simon didn't look at her. Since coming here, he had treated her as though she were little more than an insect, never deigning to acknowledge her existence- which, admittedly, was just fine with her.

So it gave Eugene a chance, as Mason brushed past him, to slip the paper into her hand.

Her heart did flips at the touch of his skin, the pain of missing him so agonizing it nearly brought her to her knees. But she continued on as though nothing had happened, and only once they were gone did she double back to her apartment.

~m~

On the back of the page, the compound had been sketched. A single X stood out at the bottom, slashed through where the cells would have been, and in the margins he had scribbled a note.

 _Armory. Two guards stationed at all times. Location of keys still unknown._

But it was what he'd scrawled on the front that had her heart beating so fast with pride, hope, fear, she felt dizzy.

 _My May,_

 _They gave me a gun but they won't let me load it. Something about making me look more threatening than I really am. Kinda bullshit, right?_

 _Good thing I know how to make bullets._

 **Eugene**

They aimed for Alexandria's watch points, outnumbering the lookouts five to one. None of the Saviors took the killing shot, as per Eugene's advisement.

 _Less chance of things getting too messy,_ he'd said, a half-truth Negan had bought surprisingly quickly.

Panic knotted his insides as they pulled up to the gate. This was home. This was home and he was invading.

 _You have to do this. You have to do this to get free._

Slowly, he willed himself into someone who wasn't afraid, someone who wouldn't feel a thing. He encased his heart in ice and stepped out of the car.

The gate squealed open and there was Rick, his eyes as feral as they'd been out on the road. They darted about wildly, taking in every inch of Eugene. Not just examining his new appearance, but...

 _Checking to see if I'm alright._

Eugene's eyes pricked with tears.

Rick shot a murderous glare at Negan as he stepped out of the car, and then looked back at Eugene.

"What's going on?" he said.

"Let us in and no one has to die," Eugene responded.

Rick cocked his head, blinking. "Did Negan make you say that?"

 _Say it. Say it._

"I am Negan."

The shock that flared on Rick's face, the denial... That was the bearable part.

When it became clear that Eugene was not about to take the words back, Rick's expression contorted into one of rage, one of pain.

Eugene jumped when Negan laid a hand on his shoulder. "So Rick. Buddy. You gonna let us in?"

They had no choice and Rick knew it. He stood back and watched thunderously as the Saviors trooped the hostages in first. As the trucks trailed in after, Negan grinned insolently.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, big shot. Eugene and I just wanted to have a little powwow with you and your people. Gather 'round, guys, c'mon, don't be shy."

Reluctantly, distrustfully, the Alexandrians clustered around them. The Saviors weaved through their ranks, taking the guns from those who were armed.

Negan motioned to Eugene.

"You all should be well aware of the reason behind our house call," Eugene began, drawing himself up like he wasn't surrounded by the people he loved. "You brought this on yourselves. But Negan has agreed to be gracious. This is your last chance to survive. Tell us where you got the guns and your lives will be spared."

No one answered. Some of them were staring at him with utter loathing, some with heartbroken disbelief. He couldn't look to long at any of them.

As the silence lingered, he said, "I would advise against a vow of silence, friends-"

"We are not your friends," Rick hissed. "We aren't friends with traitors."

A murmur of agreement rustled through the group. Eugene swallowed.

"Fair enough. But it would be in your best interest if you tell us where the guns came from."

"Someone left them on our doorstep," Michonne growled.

Negan raised an eyebrow. "They did, did they? And you have no clue who they might've been from?"

"No."

"Well, isn't that special."

There was a beat of silence in which Negan examined Rick and Michonne. Eugene did as well and was not surprised to see that they were telling the truth, though the question remained: who had left the guns?

Finally Negan nodded, a little smirk playing on his face that Eugene had learned to dread. "Alright," he said. "I believe you, although that is really fucking odd if you think about it. Like is there some kind of gun fairy I don't know about? Jesus Christ..." He trailed off, and the pause had the hair on the back of Eugene's neck standing up before he even said it.

"Eugene, pick someone. Anyone. And gut 'em like a fish, I mean really have fun with it."

At first, he was convinced it wasn't real, that he had only imagined the command.

He swayed a little as he looked at Negan.

"What?"

Negan grinned. "You heard me. Oh, don't look like that. I know you're probably one of those guys that faints at the sight of blood _but_ you did swear your allegiance to me, and I have faith in you. So. Who's it gonna be?"

Eugene's mind raced.

How could he get out of this?

How could he get out?

He couldn't.

There was no way. Not without forfeiting his life.

 _That's fine. That's fine. Let them kill you._

But Mason.

He couldn't leave her.

 _You can't kill one of your own._

But his mind was still racing, seeing all the angles, the benefits, the disastrous benefits.

Suddenly he knew who to pick.

He drew the knife from his belt, the one Simon had given him to compliment the gun, and drifted through the crowd. His family drew away from him as though he were a bitter wind, a plague. His heart raced, everything inside him screaming, whirling, tearing apart with hurricane panic.

He faltered when he saw Carl standing next to Spencer, his one good eye wide with disbelief, with desperation. Still clinging to the hope that Eugene wouldn't do it, that he was still good, still good, still good.

 _But you're not good. You will never be good after this. You will always be poisoned._

The blade flashed in the sun. It went through so, so easily.

A deep fracture cut through him as he drove the knife into Spencer's stomach.

He didn't feel the blood as it washed over his hands. Didn't hear the gasps, the screams, the shouts.

He didn't see the glint of life fade from Spencer's eyes. Didn't see Spencer's blood splattered on Carl's face.

He didn't he didn't he didn't.

 _Traitor traitor traitor_

"Good job, Eugene, holy shit!" Negan crowed from far away. "I'm gonna be honest, I wasn't sure if you had it in you but I am _proud_."

Eugene managed a robotic nod. "I think we're done here," he said.

"Yeah, I'd say so. I think they got the message."

He didn't remember walking back to the car, or anything in between. There was still blood on his hands, still blood...

He didn't remember getting into the passenger seat, or the rumble of the car as it started up.

He wasn't aware of anything until he looked down and noticed a shadowed lump hidden beneath the seat. The stranger had kept their promise.

His rucksack had been returned to him.


	26. Lies in the Dark

Hey, guys! I'm back with next chapter (finally!). Again, sorry for the delay. I know sometimes it can't be helped but I always like to try and not keep you guys waiting too long. Anyway, today's chapter title is "Lies in the Dark" by the fabulous Tove Lo, it's great, you should check it out sometime. Also, the song that Mason plays for Eugene is "Follow Me" by Muse, and it just really, really defines their relationship. Also, also...there are only TWO chapters left after this one you guys! I'm so excited (and nervous)! As always, thank you all for your wonderful reviews and support, you guys are the real MVPs. Hope that ya'll enjoy this chapter, let me know what you think!

26\. Lies in the Dark

 **Eugene**

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. He'd been sitting there for hours.

His hands. His hands.

He hated them.

No matter how hard he scrubbed, they didn't come clean. There was still blood beneath his fingernails. It made him numb remembering...

The first stab of the knife had had Spencer falling against him, hands braced on Eugene's shoulders like he meant to push him away or beg him to stop.

So Eugene had stabbed him again.

And again.

His guts had spilled onto Eugene's arms, obscenely red, steaming in the cold.

And Olivia had screamed. And Rick had roared.

And Carl had whispered his name, just one broken lament. The _betrayal_ in his voice...

Something inside of him, something he could never hope to repair, had shattered then.

But...

But.

There had been a reason. He had done it for them, his family. And they might never know it, but...he had done it for them.

Not just because he could not reveal his deceit to Negan, could not risk his newest, greatest Lie. But because he remembered how Spencer had acted after the Saviors enforced their rule over Alexandria, the things he'd gone around muttering when Rick wasn't around.

He had wanted to plot against Rick.

He had wanted Rick dead.

So Eugene had killed Spencer to keep him from fucking with the rest of his family.

But

of course

what if Spencer had changed his mind? What if he'd decided to follow Rick's lead after all?

Eugene would never know. Not now. And so that doubt...that doubt would always be there. That doubt, he knew, would eat at him until he was in the ground.

~m~

He remained for several more hours in the same vigil, staring at his hands and sifting through the details that were slowly coming back to him. Like...

He hadn't seen Maggie or Sasha anywhere. Or Carol, Morgan.

But Heath had been there, and Tara, standing protectively next to an encouragingly steady Denise.

No sign of Rosita, however, which was strange.

Everyone else had seemed okay, though, despite...despite everything.

He didn't look up when the door opened but his heart sank. He didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want to have to pretend like he wasn't broken.

"Jesus, you act like you've never killed a man before."

Negan. Of course.

"I don't corner the market on it," Eugene replied. Tired. He was so tired.

"Yeah, I guess that's more my speed." He sat down on the bed and Eugene stifled the urge to cringe away. "I apologize for putting you on the spot like that, but you have to admit it made one hell of an impact."

"Yes, hopefully now they understand..."

He trailed off. Understand what? That fighting was pointless?

Of course not. Of course not. They just needed to wait for the right time.

 _And when is that?_ he wondered.

Closing his eyes, he said, "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk to them. Though you are a far more competent leader, which I admit is the main reason why I changed allegiances, I still hope for the best for Alexandria. I want them to see sense."

Every word was like acid on his tongue, but his face portrayed the proper concern, the frustration needed to make them sound absolutely genuine.

"Of course, buddy, I understand. That's what we do here. We're Saviors."

 _You arrogant piece of shit..._

"And for doing such a phenomenal job," Negan continued, "I'd like to extend an exciting offer. Pick a wife of mine, any wife. They're yours for the night."

It took him a second to process this. He looked up, blinking. "What?"

Negan grinned. "You heard me. See, I am a very generous man. And you've done right by me."

Borrow a wife for the night.

Of course he'd heard of Negan doing things like this from Simon and the others, but he'd never had the stomach to really imagine it. To offer up women like they were rooms to rent...

Swallowing his disgust, his rage, his shook his head. "Thank you, but...I couldn't-"

"You could and you should. You've earned it." His smile turned sharp. Cruel. "You can even have Mason if you want."

 _Mason_.

Eugene's hands, his murderous hands, clenched into fists.

Was it not bad enough that Negan had forced her to sleep with _him_? Was he going to pimp her out, too?

Rage boiled through his veins, driving out the numbness. He was going to kill him. He was going to kill him, damn the plan, damn the Lie, damn everything, he was going to kill him-

"I don't know about you, but I'd jump at that offer," Negan said. "I don't offer Mason up lightly. In fact, I don't think I'll offer her to anyone. Not for a while at least. I'm only comfortable lending her to you because I know you'll take care of her."

Eugene's tepid relief was short lived. He realized then.

It was a test. To see if he still had feelings for her.

The rage cooled to ice in a heartbeat. Carefully he said, "I appreciate the offer. But things between us are toxic at best. I am fully and emphatically convinced that she hates me with every cell in her body."

Negan threw his head back and laughed. "Are you sure? Hate fucking is some of the best sex you could ask for."

"I am sure, thank you."

Negan sauntered out after that, with the parting instruction to "holler if he decided he did indeed want to borrow some poontang". The interaction left Eugene drained and cold.

He had never felt more vile, but he knew he'd have to pull himself out of it. Somehow. Because under his bed, his pack was hidden. And inside was a note left from his mystery ally that said simply: _I don't care how you do it._ _On the full moon, break out._

 **Alpha**

It had been too easy to return the Chemist's pack to him. The Saviors were so arrogant they didn't even lock their doors, didn't even guard their cars. She'd wrestled briefly with the temptation to steal one but she didn't really have use for one and they were all ugly as fuck. She wanted a Mercedes, a Viper, a Lamborghini.

 _Some day, when all your work is done here._

She would cruise through ghost towns and cities of the dead, a queen cutting open her kingdom like an autopsy. But today...

She smiled coldly as she approached the trailers, four of them in a row, just the way Beta had left them. It had been some work loading them up by herself but well worth it. Only one remained relatively empty aside from a few cold bodies staked down by the back door, just as much guards as they were inventory.

They livened as soon as she opened said door, snapping and straining to free themselves from the metal spikes binding them to the walls. She gave rabbits to the cold bodies on one side and breezed past once they started chowing down.

At the very front, a shadow crouched. It moved as Alpha approached.

"Brought you some lunch," Alpha said, holding out the last rabbit like a Christmas gift.

Rosita glared from where she knelt, hands zip tied behind her back. Around either wrist a rope was knotted, the other ends threaded through holes Alpha had painstakingly punched through the trailer floor.

She didn't say anything as Alpha dangled the rabbit in front of her face. Her eyes were twin suns, dark as dusk and far hotter than any fire.

"You should eat," Alpha purred, though it mattered very little to her whether or not Rosita starved herself. True, it would be fun to keep her alive for as long as possible, but she could make use of her corpse, too.

After a moment, Alpha lazily tossed the rabbit behind her. "So your friends got themselves into some shit," she continued. "Went running headlong like fucking idiots into the snake pit with those guns you gave them. Just like I told you they would."

Rosita stiffened, jaw twitching.

"Negan had to pay them a special visit to get the point across that they're not the sharpest knives in the block. Surprised he didn't put them all out of their misery right then and there-"

" _Fuck_ you," Rosita spat.

Alpha grinned widely, savagely. "But you already did," she said. "And you probably shouldn't have. I _smelled_ the desperation on you. You don't know how to handle yourself when you're alone, do you?"

"Fuck you," Rosita repeated, but quieter now.

"Precious little sheep. I bet you stand in front of your bathroom mirror every morning to fix your hair- out of habit, of course, because that's what was expected of you, right? You grew up with all the men leering at you and the women snarling at you, and you realized that your beauty was a weapon so you honed it into the sharpest knife you could. But the problem with that is that you dulled yourself in doing so. And so you go through the motions, hating your reflection, wondering why you still bother but scared of realizing how empty you might actually be if you stopped."

Tears glistened in Rosita's eyes but their fire merely flickered.

 _Oh, yes,_ Alpha thought. _It's going to be unfortunate if I can't keep her alive._

"What's the point of all this?" Rosita said. "Why are you keeping me locked up?"

"Because I don't believe in waste."

She let that sink in, let the fear creep into the tense line of Rosita's jaw, and then she smiled.

"The work never ends where your people are concerned, so I'll be off now. But I promise to come by soon. Maybe then you'll feel like eating."

She turned on her heel and squeezed past the cold bodies, who continued gnawing on the rabbits. She caught one last glimpse of Rosita's tight expression before slamming the door shut and leaving her in darkness.

 **Mason**

Though she always sat alone, it never felt like she was alone. Eyes watched her from every angle of the cafeteria, the majority of them the bladed gazes of the wives. This had been going on since she'd become one of them, and it hadn't taken her long to realize that it was because Negan treated her differently. Favored her.

She wanted to tell them that she wished this wasn't the case. That she hated him more than she had ever imagined hating anything. But she couldn't risk that.

Their eyes weren't the reason she couldn't eat, however. Her mind was full of images of Eugene's face when he returned from Alexandria, the blood smeared on his arms. She hadn't had a chance to talk to him, and he'd barely looked at her anyway as they passed each other in the hall, but his eyes...they'd been so _empty_. Like whatever he'd experienced had gutted him.

She was so consumed by these images and the anxiety of not knowing what was wrong that she didn't notice until the woman spoke that one of the wives had come up to her.

"Did Negan tell you you could take extra potatoes?"

The combative tone made Mason blink. Slowly, dangerously, she looked up.

"What?"

It was a wife whose name Mason wasn't sure of, a slight, redheaded woman with hawkish eyes and a frown that could freeze sunlight. She was glaring at Mason as though she could only barely contain the urge to claw out her eyes.

"You took more than you're allowed to, unless you earned it," she growled. "Did you earn it? Did you pay for it?"

Mason held her gaze unblinkingly. "I didn't realize I answered to you," she said. Her voice was cold, but her blood was boiling.

"Oh, that's right, I'm sorry. Negan's favorite pet gets whatever she wants, right?"

From across the cafeteria, the other wives stared shamelessly. Mason's neck prickled. Her temper rose, the pent-up aggression she'd been denying all these weeks threatening to burst its seams.

She murmured, "Don't do this."

But the woman scoffed. "And you're entitled to threaten me, too, huh? That's bullshit. I've been here longer than you, I've put in more time, I've given _everything_ to Negan."

Her face, her tone, their captive audience...

Eugene's desolate face. Daryl crying in their cell. Negan's smug smile. Every single lie she'd become in this place.

It was too much.

Mason's veins blazed with violence.

She saw Eugene in her mind, covered in blood.

She saw the woman's fingers twitch toward the knife at her belt.

"Let me break down how shit works around here-"

When the woman moved, Mason moved quicker. She grabbed a fistful of that red hair and slammed the woman face first into the table. Her forehead caught the edge of Mason's lunch tray, catapulting food onto the floor.

Seething, bones rattling with rage, Mason leaned in and hissed, "Don't ever pull that righteous crap on me again or I will break your jaw. Got it?"

The woman snarled but, wisely, thought better of struggling. When she didn't respond, Mason yanked on her hair until she cried out.

"Yes? No?"

"Yes," the woman spat through her teeth.

"Good. Now leave me the fuck alone."

Roughly she released the woman, who staggered back, brushing at the scraps of food caught in her ginger locks. With one final glare that was half resentment, half fear, the woman slunk back to her table. The other wives had all suddenly and conveniently found other things more interesting.

One look at her now-empty lunch tray had Mason standing up. Her bloodlust was already fading, leaving her feeling cold and sick. She returned the tray to the kitchen and fled for the sanctuary of the workout room.

The best part about it was that, despite the fierce angles and toned muscles of the Saviors, hardly anyone was ever there. She supposed this was because they got enough exercise out in the field, killing people and lugging their possessions instead of lifting weights.

Today started out as no exception. The room was empty, dark, smelling only faintly of stale sweat. Mason slipped her headphones on and hopped on an elliptical, eager to outrun her own thoughts.

Not ten minutes in, however, the door opened and one of the wives stepped in. The woman who had once been Dwight's wife. Sherry.

Mason ground to a halt, wariness and irritation warring in her chest. "So it's not enough to gawk at me in the cafeteria? You have to follow me here, too?"

Sherry stared her down evenly. "There's eyes everywhere in this place," she said. "I'm sure you know that by now."

They watched each other in silence for a moment; though every angle of Mason's body was ridged with tension, Sherry seemed simply as though she were waiting.

Finally, Mason said, "So what do you want?"

"Did Daryl ever tell you that we met him out on the road?"

"Yeah," Mason growled. "He helped you and then you stole his shit."

Sherry blinked uncomfortably and Mason felt a spark of satisfaction. "That was...a mistake."

"I'll be sure to tell him."

"No, you won't," Sherry answered matter of factly, as though she hadn't heard the sarcasm in Mason's tone. "Daryl's locked in that cell and he's not getting out unless he plays by the rules. Like you and Eugene."

Mason stiffened. There was something in Sherry's expression, something that made her think that...that she _knew_.

But how could that be? She played her part so well- and there was no doubt that Eugene played _his_ part so well- that Negan now trusted them damn near implicitly.

Or was that an act? Was he faking them out?

Instantly paranoia began to creep along her spine. Her palms began to sweat. If that were the case, if Negan really knew what they were up to... She had to warn Eugene, they had to come up with a new plan, they had to move fast-

Before the panic could really set in, Sherry held up her hands, as though she were soothing a feral dog. She glanced at the closed door and around the rest of the room before looking back at Mason.

"Ruling an empire this large, it's hard to keep track of everything that goes on in the shadows. Negan's lucky to have you."

The delivery was casual, but the words careful. Mason blinked, her pounding heart winding down slowly. Cautiously she said, "I think it's the other way around."

"Yeah, we're all lucky to have him. But he's lucky, too. You can't trust many people these days...it's just the way the world wants us to be now. But Negan trusts you, and from what I've seen he trusts Eugene, and you are both formidable assets to our community."

It was code.

Just like everything else that needed to be said in this place, that _ached_ to be said. Mason found herself thinking of Eugene, of how he would handle this particular situation, and so in a deadpan voice she replied, "I won't deny that sounds like a fair assessment."

Sherry smiled a little. "When we met Daryl that day in the woods, it was obvious that he was...different. Not willing to play the game, you know."

Translation: not a good liar.

"But I...I hope he comes around because I think he would really fit in around here and I wish...I wish we hadn't screwed him over. I think if we hadn't done that- if he were more trusting now- that would be the _key_ to getting him out of that cell."

Mason stilled.

The key.

The key to getting him out of that cell.

Sherry's eyes glinted, and it was clear she understood that Mason understood.

"You know why Negan burned Dwight's face?" she went on. "I mean, not just because we stole from him, not just because we escaped."

"No."

"Because I never would have done it without him. I never would have left Dwight behind."

Mason thought of Daryl alone in his cell, of Negan marching her through the streets of Alexandria with her ear cut off, of AJ telling her that Negan would never trust her until he was sure she had no loyalties to Eugene.

 _Sounds about right,_ she thought.

"Sounds like he drove the lesson home," she said.

"Yeah," Sherry said. "Negan's good about that."

Still wearing that small, dark smile, she turned to leave. Mason almost reached for her, almost demanded that she give her more information, but she kept herself in check.

Sherry paused with her hand on the door. "The other wives are decent people, you know," she said. "They just get scared sometimes."

Mason frowned. "Scared of what?"

"Change."

Sherry left before Mason could say anything else.

~m~

She wasn't really surprised when Negan showed up later to take her out on one of their forest excursions.

"I heard about your little spat with Diana," he explained. "Apparently we need to purge some aggression out of you."

Dutifully she followed him, though he remained unaware that as he strolled ahead of her she was casually cataloging all the places she could stab him. When they came to their first cluster of walkers, Negan gestured lazily at her to begin.

She needed no further invitation. It was something she missed, something her muscles and blood and bones yearned for. She didn't think too long about why this was, why she craved the violence. She wasn't ready to look so closely at herself.

They mowed down every walker they came across in increasing degrees of exhibitionism. She hated him more as she whirled beside him, hated the way their rampaging matched up like well-oiled cogs. She was just so _angry_. She couldn't stop feeling it.

It built and built, screaming flames swallowing all rational thought, until she was going to do it, she was going to do it, she was going to kill him. Her eyes landed on him among the carnage.

He was distracted, standing over the body of a walker, gleefully gutting it though it was already dead. His lips were lifted in a familiar grin, that same hideous expression he'd worn the night he killed Glenn and Abraham.

Her heart thundered. Time slowed to mud. She couldn't remember why she shouldn't do it. She knew there was something but it just didn't seem to matter.

Behind him, a final walker was creeping up. She could stab him and kick him into the dead one's arms. Watch it eat him. Watch him choke on his own blood.

Her own blood thumped loudly against her eardrums. She moved forward, raising her machete, and at that moment he looked up.

His eyes widened. Her veins roared.

And in her mind, an image of Eugene's messy scrawl flashed.

 _We can't kill him now. Someone else, just as bad or worse, would just take his place._

She drove the machete past his head, impaling the walker behind him to a tree.

Panting heavily, she stared him down, wiling her face into that perfect mask Eugene had taught her. After a moment, Negan grinned.

"Ho-lee _shit_! You are on the _ball_ today, sweetie!" He seized her waist before she could reply, pulling her close for a wild, consuming kiss.

He fucked her there on the forest floor, surrounded by decimated walkers, and with every thrust she felt herself floating further and further away from her body.

Afterward, while they lay side by side, Negan sighed. "So have you heard what your former lover did the other day?"

She tried not to grit her teeth. "Well, considering I don't really give a shit, no, I haven't."

"Oh, well, you should, doll, because this dude has earned my utmost respect. Underneath all that pathetic nerdiness is a stone cold killer. He murdered one of those pussies in Alexandria, you know? Straight up _murdered_ him."

Ice whirled in her lungs, stealing her oxygen on a winter wind.

The blood.

The blood.

"Who?" she managed to whisper.

"Some fuckboy looking motherfucker. Spencer something."

Some selfish part of her crumpled in relief. Not Rick. Not Carl or Aaron or Gabriel. She tried to summon up some form of remorse for Spencer, but...if she were being honest she'd never been fond of him, had always found him as arrogant and reckless as his older brother, Aiden had been.

But Eugene. It didn't matter that it had been Spencer instead of Rick. She knew Eugene would be tearing himself apart for it regardless.

She closed her eyes. "Wow. I'm surprised he had the guts."

Negan laughed. "Funny you should say that."

 **Eugene**

He'd managed to drag himself to a weapons meeting with Simon, in which they'd discussed the possibility of chemical warfare. The effort it had taken to come up with excuses _not_ toutilize such weaponry had made his head spin.

Earlier he'd passed a note along to Mason via AJ, explaining about his mystery ally and their clandestine instruction to escape on the full moon. If they were to listen to this person, that was half a month away and they were no closer to finding the cell keys.

Utterly grim, he was slouching toward his apartment when he heard it.

Music.

Blinking, he paused outside his door, glancing back and forth to make sure he was alone. Then, slowly, he stepped inside.

The docking station sat in the middle of the living room, Mason's iPod perched in the center like a queen on its throne. Through the speakers a song he didn't recognize was playing. Tucked in the tiny space behind the iPod was a folded piece of paper.

As he locked the door and reached for the note, he felt his heart beating for the first time since returning from Alexandria. His fingers trembled as he read the words she'd left for him.

 _I know I'm taking a risk with the iPod, but I think it's pretty minimal. The Big Bad Wolf says we can have joint custody of it now, isn't that sweet of him?_

 _I wanted to be there in person. I was seriously tempted to wait for you in your apartment but AJ talked me out of it._

 _Sherry cornered me in the workout room. She didn't come out and say it but I think she knows where the keys to the cells are. If that's true, then maybe we really can break out on the full moon. But that's only part of why I wanted to see you._

 _I just needed to remind you that I love you, and that you are the best thing that's ever happened to me, and fuck everything else right now. If it was just me and you, alone in everything, I could still keep going. You are my true north._

Tears blurred the letters. He blinked them hurriedly out of the way to read what she'd written at the bottom.

" _Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;_

 _I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night_."

 _That's from a poem called "The Old Astronomer to His Pupil". It reminds me of you._

He crumpled to his knees with the paper in his hands, the music whirling gracefully through his living room.

He thought he might be starting to understand poetry.

 **Mason**

"Any particular reason you dragged me away in the middle of breakfast? Seriously, they were serving french toast. I really fucking hate you right now."

Negan laughed as he led Mason into his apartment. She glowered at the back of his head, fantasizing that her eyes were guns.

 _We can't kill him now._

She knew Eugene was right. As things were, Simon was set up to succeed him. And the way both Eugene and AJ seemed to loathe Simon, particularly AJ, though he hadn't explained why... Maybe he would be worse.

In any case she had no reason to believe that disbanding the Saviors would be as easy as killing their leader, seductive as the idea was.

"This won't take long, doll, I promise. Besides, you're my main girl. If you want french toast I will give you a whole room full. For now... Feast your eyes on this."

He gestured grandly to the back of the couch, where an outfit was draped across. Black jeans, black shirt, black leather button-up jacket...

"It's for you, doll," Negan said. "I thought it was way past due for you to get your official Saviors uniform."

She swallowed, but let nothing show on her face. She ran her fingers down the sleeve of the jacket, pretending to be awed.

"Can I try it on?"

"Be my guest."

While she slipped out of her clothes and into the new ones, Negan retrieved the mirror from his room to show her her new appearance. Before she could don the jacket, he grabbed it and slipped it over her shoulders for her.

"Hell yeah," he breathed. "You have got to be the sexiest soldier I've ever seen."

She didn't reply. Her reflection stared back at her, painted in black, hardened by the weeks spent in this place. The shadows under her eyes completed the look, making her look cold, raw and savage.

 _Soldier,_ she thought. _Is that what I am?_

"So what's the verdict?" Negan asked, quirking his eyebrows in amusement at her stony expression.

She was a soldier. Abraham would have been proud.

She didn't say a word, but finding Negan's eyes in the mirror she stretched her lips in a warrior grin.

Negan kissed her temple. "Welcome to the club, babe."

~m~

AJ was waiting by her apartment when she returned from Negan's. His eyes widened at the sight of her in her new ensemble and she couldn't help cringing.

"Don't say a word," she muttered, leading the way inside.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They sat against the wall in her sparse bedroom, immediately setting to work drawing dicks where they hadn't already. With his free hand, AJ reached into his pocket and retrieved her iPod and a note. Her heart fluttered as she took them.

"Your man looked a little better when I went to remove the evidence," AJ said. "Whatever you said must have helped."

The note was short, only five words, but it still felt like the weight of a million.

 _I love you._

 _Thank you._

Mason wiped at her eyes and shoved the note in her pocket. "I'll have to burn it later," she said.

AJ nodded. "Someday you won't have to."

They sat for a while, doodling in companionable silence. But after a while, Mason paused, frowning.

"AJ," she said. "Why did Simon cut off your finger?"

She hadn't asked since that first day, and part of her wanted to take it back as soon as she saw the expression on AJ's face. But she needed to know. She needed to know everything about her enemy, and if Simon really _was_ worse than Negan, somehow...

AJ said nothing for a while, examining the pen in his hand like it might answer for him. He was quiet for so long that it startled her when he finally spoke.

"We came here, my daughter and me, because I knew I wouldn't be able to protect her alone forever. And as much as that killed me, it was better than losing her."

Mason's veins chilled. He had barely begun and she knew how it was going to end.

"I wasn't stupid. I knew what Negan was, but... I'd lost my wife a few years before the infection. Murdered by some...some racist piece of shit."

AJ's fists clenched and Mason wished she had the words to comfort him. He took a moment to compose himself before continuing.

"I wasn't going to let that happen to my daughter. I was going to do whatever I had to to protect her, even if that meant selling my soul. So I became an acquisitions soldier for the Saviors. I made myself forget who I used to be so I could get the job done. And for a while, things were okay. Things stayed afloat."

His expression became a thundercloud. She shivered.

"I don't..." He sighed. "There are a lot of things that happened that I don't...I can't talk about them."

"It's okay," Mason murmured. "You don't have to."

"Thank you. I knew when they brought you in that you were someone who understood what it was like to lose someone. I mean, everyone's lost someone nowadays. You can't avoid it. But you understand what it is to feel like you've been left behind. Not just by them, but by all the people who seem to carry their losses more gracefully. To feel like any possibility you might have had for salvation is absolutely fucking broken."

She looked down at the floor, remembering those days spent as one of the walking dead. Simply she said, "Yes."

"A couple of weeks before I lost..." He paused to brace himself. "Sadie. Before I lost Sadie, I overheard Simon talking about her to some of the guys. Saying some things that I felt well within my right to kill him for. Obviously I didn't- he's lucky the other guys pulled me off before I could. Negan punished us both, but Simon seemed so terrified of him, so terrified that Negan would kill him, that I was stupid enough to think that would be the end of it. I told Sadie to stay away from him, of course, to stick with people she trusted."

Tears slid down AJ's face. The rage and agony there... Mason had to look away.

"One day I found her on our living room floor. She'd been beaten...and raped..." His voice wavered, glass about to shatter. "She was dead when I found her and I knew, I _knew_...that son of a bitch had done it. There was not a doubt in my mind. But he'd been careful, and there was no evidence to prove that he'd done it. So when I cornered him and tried to finish what I'd started the first time, Negan wasn't so lenient with me. He gave Simon permission to punish me anyway he saw fit.

"I thought he might kill me. I would have been okay with that. I wanted to be with my family again. But he didn't. He beat me within an inch of my life and then he took my finger... To remind me that he could have taken my life. That he would always have that power over me."

There were tears streaming down Mason's face now, too. Her horror and fury, her sorrow and disgust, it rumbled within her like a surging wave. She grabbed AJ's hand and squeezed it tight, knowing there was nothing she could do or say to make it better but willing to try anyway.

"We're gonna kill 'em," she whispered, so low only the two of them had a hope of hearing it.

AJ nodded, wiping at his tears with his free hand. "Yeah, we are. We are."

~m~

She was jolted awake that night by a knock on her door. In a brief haze of confusion she reached instinctively for her fire poker, and when she failed to find it she remembered where she was.

"Hold on," she croaked when the knock came again. "I'm coming."

Her blood went cold when she opened the door to find Simon standing there, peering down at her with black hole eyes. Her fingers tightened into fists. Her muscles went taut over bones that ached to do damage, that howled for vengeance.

But her expression was immovable as she growled, "This better be good."

Simon's lips pinched with distaste. "Negan sent for you. He's in his office."

His office, not his apartment. Maybe he wanted to pretend she was his naughty secretary. Her eyes narrowed.

"Thanks," she said curtly.

The hallways were gloriously empty. In the space between her room and Negan's office, she pretended she was in a world where the hallways were always empty, always quiet and peaceful. Then she was at his door, and she breathed out this strange longing before opening the door.

The room was dark except for the dim orange glow of a lamp, illuminating Negan slouched at his desk. There was a bottle of some amber liquor in his hand and a glass half-full of the same in the other.

"Close that," he rasped, in a voice that was so far from what it usually was that Mason stopped in her tracks. Blinking she obeyed and took the seat across from him.

Without looking up, he poured the liquor into a second glass and slid it across to her.

She stared at it. "No, thanks..."

"Don't tell me you're not a drinker, doll, I can tell an alcoholic from a mile away."

She just continued to stare at it until Negan looked up. When he caught sight of her expression, he snorted.

"You really think I'm gonna poison you? Jesus Christ, girl."

"I think," she said coolly, "that that's the good shit you're drinking and I'm wondering how I'll have to pay you back for it."

He waved away her concern. "Drink's on me, doll, don't worry about it."

After a moment she reached for the glass and took a hesitant sip. The bourbon went down like silk. She stifled a sigh.

"So what are we drinking to?"

"My wife."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

Negan smiled a little. "My first. Lucille."

"Your...baseball bat?"

"No. My wife from before."

She supposed it was stupid to be surprised, to think that Before he had multiple wives just like he did now. But she couldn't picture him in any normal, domestic role.

Negan chuckled like he could read her thoughts. "Yeah, that's right. I was in a typical monogamous relationship before all this. And guess what else? I was a teacher. A gym teacher, to be precise. Fun work. Important work. Gym class was when all the little assholes really showed their true colors and it gave me a chance to whip 'em into shape."

Mason didn't bother trying to hide her shock. "You. You worked...with kids."

"Eh, young adults. Middle schoolers. That's when they're at their worst, you know? Anyway I was at the school when she got sick. Just collapsed out of fucking nowhere, I mean, you figure that? No warning signs, no nothing. Course I guess sometimes it can be that way with cancer."

Mason blinked. She didn't see how she could ever honestly mean it, but she still said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I was a shit husband. Lucille was too good for me and I didn't treat her right. Cheated on her for years, took all that little shit for granted that the best of 'em do for you, you know? How they make you laugh and buy you things they think you'll like and bring you cold beers after a long day."

He fell silent for a moment, frowning down at the glass in his hand. He downed the rest of it in one go and filled it up again before continuing.

"Anyway. Anyway. The point is that...realizing that, losing her, made me stronger. Kept me going in this fucked up shit show, you know? Where the weak fell away, I remained. And I realized that it was my duty to extend my strength to the weak ones. Not just to save them but to give them the weapons to conquer death."

 _Obnoxious, arrogant, sanctimonious-_

"There are worse things than death," Mason said quietly.

Negan looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then he raised his glass.

"Alright. To conquering the new world."

Chilled to the bone, she clinked her glass to his. "Conquering the new world."

Together they drank in the dark.


	27. Loyal Like Sid and Nancy

Hello, guys! So I am back with the second-to-last chapter of this installment, and I am very, very excited about this one. There's a lot going on in it and I had so much fun writing it so I hope ya'll enjoy it as well. The chapter title is "Loyal Like Sid and Nancy" by Foster the People and it is one of my favorite songs to come out in recent years. It's amazing, nuanced, and fits this chapter like a glove, so give a listen if you get a chance. A big thank you to my reviewers and supporters, you guys really are the best. I hope to have the last chapter out very soon, until then let me know what you think!

27\. Loyal Like Sid and Nancy

 **Alpha**

Each night, her anticipation waxed with the moon. Its cold silver swelled rounder and rounder, a clock slowly revealing all its numbers.

She had no way of knowing if the Chemist was preparing for the escape, but she didn't doubt that he was. Predicting people was the game and she was queen; she could have made a killing Before as a fortune teller.

All her truck trailers were full now, save for a tiny space between the cold bodies and Rosita in the last one. She had a pair of bolt cutters stashed in the bushes close to the Saviors compound.

She was ready.

 **Eugene**

He shut himself off from every true emotion because it was the only way he was going to get shit done. He became a man etched from ice. His heart became just another cold shadow amid dozens.

He was aware of each phase of the moon like he'd never been before. He wasn't certain why the Ally had ordered him to escape when it was full, but he had concluded- perhaps with a bit too much hope- that it was because that was the night they intended to provide aid. They had already saved him from walking into the Saviors' compound unprepared, and returned his pack when the time was right. Why do all that if they didn't intend to help?

It had become harder to sleep in the days since Alexandria, so he utilized his insomnia by drawing out plans. The good thing about being the Saviors' chemist was that he had access to weird shit.

For instance, if he were to borrow a few cold compresses from the doc and some ice melt from the grease monkeys that worked in the garages, nobody would question him if he told them it was for science.

Nobody knew chemical structures. Nobody knew anything that he didn't want them to know.

Nobody knew how to set fire to someone so _creatively_.

 **Mason**

Her veins were molten fractures, building pressure with each day that passed. The flames ate any emotion that didn't serve her purpose. She was a woman consisting purely of furious light.

She spent every available moment she could in the workout room, toning her already-hardened muscles, testing her endurance. Driving herself to the edge of passing out with the intensity of these sessions.

Sometimes, when she was lying on the floor afterwards trying to breathe, she thought she saw Abraham standing over her, grinning.

But that was probably her imagination.

~m~

The day that Sherry started the fight in the cafeteria, Mason was already on edge. That night the moon was going to be waxing gibbous so Mason figured they likely had only three days left until it was full.

She was sitting at her usual table, chewing her food with near-comical intensity, when someone shoved her.

"Where is it?"

Mason nearly stabbed her attacker with her fork before realizing that it was Sherry, glaring at her with unabashed outrage.

Except it was lie. Mason had pretended enough for so long to see that.

So, scrambling out of her chair, Mason played along.

"Back. Off."

Behind the belligerent mask, Sherry's eyes gleamed with approval. "Where is my fucking shirt?" she demanded. "I know you took it."

"Oh, come off it, you paranoid bitch, I didn't steal shit."

"I left it in Negan's apartment and now it's gone. Don't tell me he's been flaunting it around."

Mason let out a snort, examining the room from the corners of her eyes. Everyone was watching, tittering excitedly like she and Sherry were putting on a show.

Which, she supposed, they were.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said. "But I don't want anything that _you_ have. I can get whatever I want, whenever I want, you jealous slag."

Sherry drew back her arm for the punch, giving Mason time to duck. She barreled into Sherry's skinny waist with perhaps a bit too much force, slamming her against the wall hard enough to elicit a sharp huff.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Asshole," Sherry hissed in reply.

She grabbed a handful of Mason's hair and thrust her head back. Gritting her teeth, Mason wrapped her hands around Sherry's throat. Several of the guys in the cafeteria began hooting and catcalling and Mason had to stifle an absolutely vitriolic eye roll.

While they wrestled, battering each other against the wall and into tables, Sherry murmured, "Front left pocket."

Mason didn't respond. Instead she let out a growl and knocked her to the floor, crashing into several chairs in the process. And in the brief moment while they were hidden from sight, Mason reached into Sherry's jeans pocket and plucked out the key.

 _The key_.

Mason's heart whirled in her chest like a leaf caught on a wild wind. She slipped the key into her sleeve seconds before the crowd gathered around them, some of them laughing, some of them cheering. She felt like cheering with them.

Until Simon loomed over her and hooked his hands around her arms.

"Come on, sweetheart, time to-"

She threw her head back and was satisfied to feel his nose crack against it. He stumbled away from her with a loud snarl. She smirked darkly.

 _That's just the beginning, friend._

She let two other guys drag her to her feet, all while pretending she was still in attack mode. Simon glared at her with his hand pressed to his bleeding nose.

"Get them both to Negan. _Now_!"

~m~

"Well, Sherry, I know for a fact that Mason doesn't have your shirt because I know for a fact you didn't _wear_ said shirt that night. You wore that tight little red number, remember?"

Sherry blinked in what appeared to be genuine confusion. "But I was sure..."

Mason snorted. "Yeah, you really have it all together in there, don't you?"

"If you say another goddamn word to me-"

Negan stepped between them. "Whoa, whoa, ladies. Let's not forget that this is exactly why you were brought here in the first place. Now Simon here has got a broken nose and that is just not acceptable. He was trying to help you out and you bashed his face. Not cool."

 _You're going to be not-so-pleasantly surprised when I kill him then._

Simon stood by Negan's front door, watching Mason with a livid, murderous expression. She stared back unblinkingly in a silent _fuck you_.

"Since I'm not about to let Simon break your nose to make things even, Mason, you now have debt," Negan continued. "Whatever you have to do to pay that off, you do, alright? That means cleaning bathrooms, doing laundry, skipping meals if you have to. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Now, Sherry? Give Mason your shirt."

Both women stilled, blinking.

"What?" Sherry said.

"Take off your shirt," Negan said slowly, "and give it to Mason. Give us a little strip tease."

Disgust welled in Mason's throat but she made herself sound unconcerned as she drawled, "She doesn't have to do that. That shirt's ugly anyway."

"You may think so, doll, but it must be done. Sherry?"

After a brief hesitation, Sherry steeled her jaw and began unbuttoning her blouse. Swallowing another protest, Mason looked away; it was only with her peripheral vision that she noticed when Sherry handed the shirt to her.

"See?" Negan grinned. "You girls _can_ play nice."

~m~

She wasn't surprised when Sherry found her that afternoon in the workout room. After their reprimand, Negan had taken Mason out into the woods again.

"Maybe we should look into some anger management for you," he'd suggested an hour later while she stood in the center of a ring of fallen walkers. "You're a goddamn reaper, doll."

But despite her numerous kills, the session had not been enough to purge her completely, so she'd turned to running.

Panting, Mason stepped off the elliptical. Sherry hovered warily by the door. They watched each other for a moment.

Finally, Sherry said, "So my shirt's ugly, huh?"

"Could be I'm just a jealous slag," Mason replied.

There was a beat of silence and then suddenly they were both laughing. Hysterical, exhausted, relieved. It was the sound of camaraderie. And despite the fact that Mason was dripping sweat, Sherry wrapped her in her arms like they were old friends.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. Simon's face when you broke his nose," she giggled, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Someone had to jack up that cowboy porn star look he's got going on," Mason replied.

When their laughter died down, Sherry sighed. "I can't stay too long. I just wanted to say thank you."

"For forgiving you for wrongly accusing me, right?"

"Of course."

"Look, Sherry..." Mason pitched her voice lower. "Why did you start the fight? I mean, you could've just given the key to me in here or something."

Sherry's eyes glinted. "We needed an audience. Once Negan notices his key is missing there's only so many people he will suspect. If he thinks we hate each other, I'll be at the bottom of that list. And so will you, at least until..."

She trailed off expectantly. Mason frowned.

"There's not a plan yet, at least not all of one. We had to wait until we knew how easily we could get Daryl. But now that I have the key... I'll let you know when it's concrete-"

"No."

Mason startled. "What?"

"Look," Sherry said, glancing at the floor. "I don't want to hear any part of your plan unless you need me for it, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because Dwight won't go. Not now. Not after everything that happened. He won't risk it. And I don't want to know...it will be hard enough knowing that we have to stay."

Mason bit her lip. She wanted to argue, to convince her somehow, but she knew if she were in Sherry's position...if it were Eugene who didn't want to leave...

She knew what her answer would be.

Respectfully, she dipped her head. "Alright. Need to know basis. Got it."

"Thank you. I really do mean that."

"Thank _you_. And we're not leaving you here. Not forever." Mason eyed her fiercely. "We'll come back for you."

A tear trailed down Sherry's cheek but she wiped it away quickly. "Thank you," she murmured again.

 **Eugene**

The moment Mason was near him, it drove the cold straight out of his veins. He still felt unstable, still horribly disconnected, but at the first sight of her he felt the tether of warmth and light that she bound around him. His sunlight in a storm, his May in the middle of winter.

They'd been called to a meeting with Negan and the others of his inner circle, and he spotted her filing into the conference room next to a man they called Fat Joey.

Her eyes flickered up as though she sensed the change in Eugene, the way her proximity illuminated him. But when their gazes met, something in hers jolted him. Sharpened him.

She had something. Either she'd found something out or...

Automatically he glanced down at her hands. The signals she flashed him filled him with a strange, trembling quiet.

 _Escape. Green light._

She was affirming their breakout. And if she was affirming their breakout, then...

She had the key. Or knew how to get it at least. The last puzzle piece they'd been searching for.

His heart fluttered with excitement and no small amount of apprehension. They were really going to do it. They were really going to escape. He'd known this before, of course, but it had always felt so far away. Like a better world on the other side of a glass. Now it was as if he'd suddenly been thrown through the window so quick he'd merely blinked and woken up on the other side.

 _You're not on the other side,_ he reminded himself. _Not yet._

The meeting dragged. Every second scraped by like individual, agonizing lifetimes. He was so distracted that when Negan asked him to weigh in on some strategy or other, he had to call his name twice.

But finally, mercifully, it came to an end and he was one of the first ones out of the room. He returned to his apartment and didn't leave for dinner that night, didn't even think about eating.

He had an escape to plan.

 **Alpha**

She saw her. For the first time since she'd been taken by the Saviors, Alpha saw Mason. She was out in the woods, fighting cold bodies with Negan like it was therapy. And she was taking them down one after the other after the other, a vicious flame devouring everything in her path.

Alpha had never been so turned on.

Something had changed in Mason. She'd been galvanized, beaten into a new shape like a sword by a metallurgist's hand.

Negan had laughed like she was only there to provide entertainment. He had called her reaper.

Reaper.

Alpha's lips had curled into what might have been a snarl or a smile at the title.

The Reaper and the Chemist.

What destruction they would wreak.

 **Mason**

So began the race to the finish. The plans and variations thereof, which AJ passed back and forth between Mason and Eugene, took shape frantically but thoroughly. Every avenue was discussed, every pitfall and possibility. When they finally settled on a final plan, it was with determined tension. Anything could go wrong at any time but they refused to be cowed by this.

Eugene was to head to the armory first and take out the guards with his smuggled bullet. Mason would come in from the other direction to clear their escape route, a hallway where there were often several Saviors milling about. They would take as many weapons as they could carry and make their way to Daryl's cell and while they were breaking him out, AJ would be rigging bombs around the western half of the building. This would serve as both a hefty distraction and, with any luck, an easy getaway. While the Saviors were still reeling, the four of them would sneak off into the night and by the time Negan knew what had happened they'd be long gone.

There were still so many variables that could swerve the path, but each one was carefully weighed. Despite the gravity of what they were attempting, Mason felt confident in the plan.

As per her promise, she did not tell Sherry any of this, though she ached to. Keeping it from her felt like such a betrayal after everything Sherry had risked to help her. But she stayed silent, and allowed herself only to make brief eye contact with Sherry in the cafeteria. The only thing she could offer.

At least until they returned to burn Rome.

 **Eugene**

In three days he whipped up all the explosives AJ would need to blow the west wing. It wasn't as hard as one might think. Household chemicals were dangerously volatile for having once been so commercially available.

In order to make their disappearance less suspicious, however, Eugene went to Simon and Negan and told them that he had decided it would be prudent to invest in chemical weaponry. He chalked his sudden change of heart up to unease that Alexandria might launch another attack if given the chance, which they both believed easily enough.

AJ acted as liaison during these long hours, passing notes between Mason and Eugene, bringing Eugene food when he forgot to eat. He even managed, he told Eugene one afternoon, to sneak extra food to Daryl and to pass on the news that he was to prepare for escape. Whether or not Daryl believed him was another story, but it hardly mattered. He was getting out one way or another. They all were.

 **Mason**

The night before the escape, AJ delivered a special gift from Eugene, a little container of what looked like dirty salt. On the attached note, a chemical compound had been written, but it was the sentence beneath that lit up her features with a fierce grin.

 _Just add water,_ it read, with a little smiley face drawn in place of a period.

She knew what it was. She'd heard the story.

"The hell is that?" AJ asked.

In lieu of an actual answer, Mason just said, "It's lit," and then started cackling.

"You lost your damn mind, haven't you?"

~m~

And then the day came, and it passed in a strange, dragging lurch. Both swift and slow, long and short. There was nothing left for them to do but wait until the sun went down, and the waiting was brutal.

They had spent all month trapped as people they weren't and now finally they were getting out. They were breaking free.

 **Alpha**

Just before the sun set, Alpha made one final circuit around the Saviors' compound, checking every escape route and the obstacles that might hinder her. Tonight had to go seamlessly. Her plans had changed thanks to Rosita, but only part of them. She would not let them be altered again.

She made her way quickly through the woods, conscious of the fading light. Mason...the Reaper...and the Chemist would be launching their escape very soon. She had to be in position when they did.

She was so absorbed in her own plotting that it took her by surprise, as she came full circle, when the figure lunged from behind a tree and whacked her in the head.

For a moment the pain blinded her, searing her vision with a burst of white and then trickling darkness. She didn't remember hitting the ground but when her vision cleared she was looking up from the frosted grass at a bloody, haggard Rosita.

And behind her, slow-moving but frightening in their totality, the cold bodies followed. All of the dead Alpha had so painstakingly gathered...

Alpha blinked, tasting blood as her mouth moved. "Rosita."

Rosita cocked her weapon- one of the metal rods Alpha had used to spear the cold bodies to the trailer walls. Her wrists were raw and bleeding, clearly chafed from escaping the ropes Alpha had bound her with.

 _I should've used chains,_ Alpha thought as Rosita brought the weapon down again.

She rolled to the side, her stomach lurching nauseously with the movement, and dirt and bits of grass sprayed her as the rod stabbed the place where she'd just been. She was lucky to be alive, she knew, after such a blow to the head. Likely she'd only survived because Rosita was too weak to really make the hit count.

Pain made her sluggish. Angrily she gritted her teeth against it and staggered to her feet.

 _Move or die, you pussy._

She scrambled out of range as Rosita swung the rod again, reaching for one of the glass shards she kept on her belt. It bit into her hand but she focused on that pain, so small in comparison to the throbbing in her skull. Used it to sharpen her senses.

"Well, I'm impressed," she said. "You people continue to surprise me."

"Shut up," Rosita snarled. "I'm going to kill you, and that's that. No more talking, no more tricks, you psycho bitch."

Alpha merely raised an eyebrow, nodding her chin at the cold bodies. "What about them?"

Rosita's eyes were black holes. Merciless.

"I guess we're dying together."

Alpha laughed. "I'm not dying until the job is done. But you do you, sweetheart."

Without another word, Rosita lunged, plunging the rod toward Alpha's stomach as if she intended to gut her. Alpha dodged to the side, keeping half of her senses trained on the cold bodies, who had nearly reached them. As she moved past, Alpha slashed Rosita's arm with the glass.

Rosita hissed, but before she could retaliate the dead were on them. Suddenly it was not just each other they had to fight. Alpha bobbed and weaved through the cold bodies, trying to kill as few as possible. She still needed them.

The sun sank in the west, throwing shadows across the ground and casting Alpha and Rosita in bloody light. They danced through the dead, circling back to each other whenever they could to try to land the killing blow. Weak as she was, Rosita held her own longer than Alpha anticipated.

But she could not stand against her forever.

Through a pocket in the dead, Alpha glimpsed her opportunity. Rosita was distracted, struggling to pull the rod out of a dead one's chest. Alpha moved quickly.

She kicked the cold body away and the rod went with it, ripped right out of Rosita's hands. Before Rosita could respond, Alpha kicked her legs from under her. Rosita went down with a furious cry, falling to her hands and knees amid the gore.

Alpha yanked the rod from the cold body before Rosita could recover and jammed it through Rosita's leg, pinning her to the forest floor.

Rosita's scream shattered the still winter air.

Panting, Alpha offered her a cruel smile. "Sorry, hot stuff, but offering you up as blood sacrifice is going to give me time to get these fuckers organized again. Which, you know, I wouldn't have to do if you would've just stayed put. But we all make stupid ass decisions sometim-"

Quick as lightning, Rosita ripped one of the glass shards from Alpha's belt and stabbed her repeatedly in the thigh. The shock and searing pain had Alpha's legs buckling and as soon as she collapsed Rosita skewered her chest.

Glass scraped bone and broke off somewhere inside her; when Rosita pulled the shard away, the tip had fractured into a mountain range.

For the space of a heartbeat, Alpha stared in shock. Rosita glared back with utter hate.

Then the cold bodies were there, falling on them like wolves at a kill. Agony turned to desperation turned to fury in seconds; suddenly Alpha and Rosita were crouched side by side, covered in blood and fighting them off from the ground.

 _I will not die here,_ Alpha thought ferociously. _I will not let this bitch be the end of me._

This thought, and this thought alone, gave her the strength to heave herself to her feet. She pitched wildly through the mass of the dead, and only when she was clear of them did she turn back.

Rosita was still speared to the ground, stubbornly holding her death at bay by inches. Their eyes met for the briefest second through the crowd and Alpha let out a piercing laugh. Angry. Hysterical. Her grip on reality, on sanity, wavered.

"If you make it, Rosita," she shouted, " _tell the Reaper I'm coming for her._ "

She stumbled hurriedly into the descending dark.

 **Mason**

She changed clothes before leaving her apartment. She donned the same dirty jeans and jacket she'd worn the night the Saviors captured her. Negan had returned them to her after she'd sworn her allegiance, and she wore them now as a testament.

No matter how much it felt like the opposite, she was still alive. The old her, the Mason who had gone into that night carrying Maggie on a stretcher, certain her people would make it out of anything together, that Mason had survived. She refused to accept otherwise.

Her Saviors uniform she packed in the bottom of the duffel bag she intended to carry weapons in. She wasn't stupid; on the road, you were rich if you had more than one pair of clothes.

Other than that, the only other belonging she was taking with her was her iPod and headphones. There was no way in hell she was letting Negan keep her music.

She paused at her door. AJ had already left with the explosives Eugene had given him, telling her in a grimly merry voice that he would see her on the other side. Eugene was probably already heading for the armory.

Moonlight angled in through her window, defiantly bright.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

 **Eugene**

Making it down to the armory undetected was the hardest part, dodging unwanted attention but prepared to deal with if need be. Indeed his knuckles ached from gripping his knife so tightly. In the end, however, he didn't need it. He came to the final corner, around which the armory waited, and bit back a sigh of relief.

Slowly, he leaned around the corner.

There were the two guards, standing on either side of the armory door, one of them with an AR-15, one of them with an M1 Carbine. Guns that packed a punch.

And then there was Eugene with the insignificant handgun they'd decided he could play cops and robbers with. There he was with only one secondhand bullet.

He swallowed and, as quietly as possible, took the gun from his belt. It was already loaded and the safety off. Every movement he made, he made with care.

Again he peeked around the corner, examining the men again. He could shoot one of them and hopefully make it to their weapon before the other blew his head off his shoulders. Or...

One of them, the one closest to him, was shorter than the other. His head came to rest where the other's neck was.

Warily, he raised his gun and took aim.

His heart thundered in his chest.

It had to be exactly right. He couldn't miss.

His eyes narrowed.

He never missed.

He took the shot and the bullet carried exactly where he wanted it to go- straight through the shorter guard's skull and into the second guard's throat.

The shorter man collapsed immediately, dead before he hit the floor. The other man slumped against the wall, dropping the gun to clasp desperately at the bullet wound.

Belting his gun, Eugene strode from around the corner, watching with icy satisfaction as the man's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but blood gushed out instead, staining his teeth red. He slid to the floor as Eugene stood over him.

"I would offer my apologies," he said, unsheathing his knife. "But I wouldn't mean them."

He stabbed the man through the head.

Down the hall, someone started screaming. He didn't have time to worry about them. He snatched the armory keys from the ring on the taller guard's belt and unlocked the door.

 **Mason**

She reached her target hall just as the gun went off. She couldn't let herself worry whether or not Eugene had made the shot because he needed her here.

There were men in the hall, just as they'd predicted. Four of them, some with guns and some with knives. They were all turned in the direction the gunfire had come from, so they didn't see her until she took the lid off the container and yelled.

"Hey!"

As they whipped around, she tossed the sodium nitrate in their faces.

They shouted, stumbling back, and while they were blinded Mason jumped toward the nearest fire sprinkler and struck it with her machete.

Water rained down, setting fire to the first man and the arm of the second. Mason raced past them as they screamed, launching herself into the air to smash the next sprinkler, and the one after that.

The men shrieked in agony and terror, spinning in circles or collapsing to the ground in a vain attempt to put out the fire. She left it to eat them alive.

When she rounded the corner, her eyes fell immediately on the two bodies sprawled outside the armory. Her heart fluttered and she couldn't move fast enough as she sprinted down the hall and through the open door and-

Eugene.

 _Eugene._

Standing there in the middle of a dark room absolutely _bristling_ with weapons, standing there in the clothes he'd worn that night, _the_ night, as though he'd had the same thoughts she'd had, standing there like

home.

He looked up as she rushed inside, and she saw the moment when he broke at the sight of her. His eyes softened, flooded with tears.

"Mason," he whispered.

She smiled, weak with emotion. "Hey."

They collapsed in each other's arms, so desperate to touch each other, _really_ touch each other after so long. Desperate to reassure themselves that this was real. Mason crushed her lips to his and they were warm and soft and _right_. They didn't taste like cinnamon and cigar smoke. They tasted like everything she was ready to die for.

Too soon they pulled away, painfully aware of how little time they had for a reunion. Heaving a sigh to clear her head, Mason said, "We fill our bags with all we can carry."

Eugene nodded, the tenderness lingering on his face. "I found something for you," he said.

Something clicked into place when he pulled the fire poker, _her_ fire poker, from the corner and handed it to her. Holding its cool, familiar weight...the Earth felt steadier under her feet.

He smiled at her appeased expression. "Found something for Daryl, too," he said and held the crossbow aloft like a trophy.

She grinned. "Merry Christmas."

 **Alpha**

It was probably a death sentence but she was so enraged, so far over the edge, that she couldn't stop. She kept moving, hustling from cold body to cold body along the Saviors' compound, freeing them with her bolt cutters.

She felt the blood leaking out of her slowly. She felt herself getting weaker despite the makeshift compress around the wounds in her leg.

One second wasted and she was dead. She knew it. But the job needed getting done.

The deadwall was coming down one way or another.

 **Mason**

They didn't run into a single person on the way to Daryl's cell and Mason didn't know if this should comfort or disappoint her. It seemed she wasn't able to get a handle on her bloodlust, not since letting it off the leash that day with Diana. Burning those men back by the armory... _that_ had been therapeutic.

Eugene covered her while she dug the key from her pocket and unlocked the door. God, having guns again...

When she flung open the door, Daryl cringed away from the light, a grimy, haggard shadow crouched on the floor. Mason's heart splintered at the sight of him in such pitiful condition.

"Daryl," she said and his head snapped up.

He blinked several times like he couldn't believe it, his blue eyes as sharp as they ever were despite the circumstance. His mouth formed her name but it was a moment before he made any sound.

"Mason?" he croaked.

She offered him a gentle grin. "What's up, Squirrel-bane?"

He scrambled to his feet without another word and hugged her to his chest. She held him just as tightly, worried that if she let him go he might slip away.

"Man," she said when she finally pulled away. "You need a bath."

"I ain't takin' a bath," he replied. Then his eyes fell on Eugene and relief once more clouded his features. "Eugene."

"Evening, Daryl."

Mason wasn't surprised when Daryl swept Eugene into an embrace, but Eugene looked a little taken aback. He wrapped his arms around Daryl without hesitation, however. Brothers reunited after war.

"What are you two doin' here?" Daryl said when he stepped away.

"We're breaking you out," Mason said. "Didn't you get AJ's message?"

He frowned. "Why would I have believed him?"

No surprise there.

"Well, he's been helping us out all this time. He's setting explosives in the west wing, which, actually..." She trailed off and exchanged a worried glance with Eugene. "He should've been finished by now. They should've gone off."

"Maybe he's just runnin' behind," Daryl said.

Mason bit her lip. It was true. AJ could've been running behind schedule, but now that they had Daryl, now that they had a moment to breathe...something in her gut said otherwise.

Eugene opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly Daryl grabbed him and swung him to the side. Seconds later, a volley of bullets cut through the space where he'd been standing.

Mason ducked to the other side, raising her gun on instinct and firing down the hall as a parade of men stormed toward them. Eugene tossed a gun to Daryl and they joined her.

Her heart pounded. There was nowhere to hide unless they ducked into the cell, which she had no intention of doing. The only chance they had was overwhelming the men with bullets until they could slip around the corner at the other end of the hall.

She signaled this plan to Eugene and Daryl, flashing the symbol for _hold_ and then nodding behind her to their only escape. As a single unit they all began backing up.

Eugene took several men out of commission with some truly beautiful headshots, but with a continuous rain of bullets and nowhere to hide he could manage no more than that. The Saviors crept closer, closing the gap far quicker than Mason expected them to. Uncertainty bit at her. If they didn't keep enough distance between them, then turning the corner would do them no good.

After a moment, Eugene let out an impatient huff.

"Cover me."

Daryl and Mason did as ordered while Eugene swung the rucksack from his shoulder and took out his bow and a single arrow.

A bomb arrow.

Excitement flickered in her chest and she threw herself into her own task with renewed vigor, managing to take down two men in the time it took for Eugene to ready his weapon.

He lit the fuse. Knocked the arrow. Let fly.

"Run," he said, a heartbeat before the arrow hit their enemies and exploded.

Mason, Daryl and Eugene hauled each other down the hall and around the corner as the men burst into flames. Once they had put some distance between them, Eugene took the lead, following the maps he and Mason had been memorizing all this time.

She brought up the rear, monitoring for enemy approach. She was certain now that something had gone wrong on AJ's end and a pit opened in her stomach whenever she allowed herself to think about it.

She had promised him. She had promised him she was going to help him escape.

What if they'd detained him?

What if he was dead?

 _What if he betrayed you?_

The voice was like the insidious slither of a snake. It came out of nowhere, out of some shadowy part of her she'd been trying to deny.

 _He didn't betray us,_ she thought fiercely. AJ wouldn't do that. She trusted him. _Stop being paranoid. Just keep moving._

Many twists and turns later and they hadn't encountered anyone else. Instead of feeling relieved, a horrible suspicion had begun to trickle through Mason's veins. Yes, they'd planned their escape route around the paths they knew would be least populated but that was _before_ they'd been attacked. Before they knew that the Saviors knew what they were up to. From the tension in Eugene's shoulders she could tell he was thinking the same.

But there was the exit up ahead, and no one stood in their way and no one was pursuing them. Maybe she really was paranoid. Maybe luck was with them after all...

Eugene burst through the door first, Daryl and Mason clustered close behind.

Bright lights greeted them. Not the light of the moon, but...

Headlights. The sinister glare of cars ringing the front yard.

Her heart stopped.

Everything that happened after that seemed to hang suspended in time. A single heartbeat, stretched into an infinity.

Men came at them from either side, surrounding them, grabbing at them.

Eugene, Daryl and Mason launched into a tight grouping in the second it took for them to take all this in. They moved shoulder-to-shoulder, back to back, fighting their way through the ambush with synchronized desperation.

But there were too many of them. The Saviors bunched around them, trapping them.

So Eugene, Daryl and Mason stopped fighting but continued to stand as one, guns raised, a defiant triangle in a circle of black-clad men.

There was no way out.

They had tried, they had fought, and in the end they had failed.

They were going to die.

But she was with Eugene.

She was with Daryl.

She was with them and they were with her and they would die together and it was alright.

The crowd loosened a little and through them Mason's eyes landed on Negan. His face was livid, the scariest she'd ever seen it, and there was no sign of AJ anywhere but there in Negan's hand was the bag of explosives Eugene had made for him.

Mason met his gaze, refusing the fear that crept along her spine at the sight of his frightening expression.

In that moment, they marked each other.

In the next, there was a loud, clinking snap, followed by the thunder of countless snarls.

The gate swung open, propelled by a flood of walkers that fell on the Saviors before anyone could react. Some of them wore the white uniforms of the deadwall, now somehow free from their internment.

Stunned by this turn of events, Daryl, Eugene and Mason could only stare as the Saviors broke out of their disciplined arrangement to fight the dead. Screams and shouts pierced the night. Mason could no longer see Negan and it was this that finally broke her trance.

"We have to go," she said. "Now, while everyone's distracted."

Her words jolted them from their shock. Still moving as one, they took off through the yard toward the open gate.

Everything was a confusion of walkers and men fighting walkers and guns going off and headlights knifing through the moving crowd.

 _The Ally,_ Mason realized. This must have been them. A wave of gratefulness washed over her. Whoever the nameless guardian was, she'd owe them for life.

They were almost to the gate when someone grabbed her by her hair, snapping her to a painful halt. With a furious grunt, she swung her elbow back and caught her attacker in the stomach. Their grip didn't loosen, however, and she shuddered as hot breath brushed her earlobe.

"The fuck do you think you're going?"

Cinnamon and cigar smoke.

Negan.

Her heart turned over.

Using all the force she could muster, she lunged- not forward, but back into Negan, hard enough that she knocked him off balance. His fingers untangled from her hair and she scrambled away, but he continued to grapple with her, yanking her back.

A gun fired close by and blood exploded from Negan's arm. His hand recoiled from its clutch on her leg.

She looked up to see Eugene taking aim again, but before he could shoot Simon tackled him to the ground.

"No!" Mason shouted as they disappeared in a knot of walkers. She scurried for her gun, dropped when Negan attacked her, but before she could reach it agony flared in her left leg.

She cried out, turning to see Lucille's barbs embedded in her calf. The blow hadn't broken any bones, but when Negan pulled the bat away bits of her flesh went with it.

She wailed and kicked out with her good leg, trying to land a hit, but Negan loomed over her with Lucille. Poised for the kill.

She heard, from far away it seemed, Eugene screaming her name. She felt her limbs move uselessly under her, clambering to get her out of reach of her own death but unable to do so quickly enough.

She saw the Saviors rallying, getting their own legs back under them after the surprise invasion.

They were regrouping. Quickly.

Eugene and Daryl had to get out.

" _GO_!" she shrieked, hoping that they heard, hoping they understood. If they lived everything would be okay.

Negan cocked his weapon back and she braced for the hit.

Eugene and Daryl came out of nowhere, bowling Negan down in unison. Eugene punched him several times in the face and Lucille tumbled away into the fray.

"No!" Mason said, pushing herself up from the ground and staggering with the pain of her injured leg. Blood trickled into her shoe. "Eugene! Daryl!"

She limped quickly toward them, frigidly aware that some of the Saviors had already turned their attention back to them. Time was trickling away.

Eugene was closer so she grabbed him first, pulling him away from a bloodied Negan. When he turned to look at her, his eyes were the deep, unending cold of a winter solstice.

"We can kill him," he said.

There was no time to remind him that it would do no good when they were surrounded like this, no time to tell him that if they didn't run _right now_ they would lose their chance forever. She yanked him away and reached back for Daryl.

The Saviors converged in a swarm, seizing him before she could. And those that didn't have their arms around him were grabbing for her and Eugene.

Panic crushed her lungs in a steely vise. Desperately she reached for him again.

His eyes met hers, burning with that understanding they shared. "Mason," he rasped, extending his arm...

And shoving her away.

" _Go_."

She gaped at him, tears shattering her vision, and suddenly she was there again. In that forest with Daryl and Beth, after the prison had fallen. Surrounded by walkers, their choices limited to naught, she had led the dead away after ordering him to look after Beth. To escape.

And she hadn't seen Beth again until the day she put her in the ground.

Now here she stood on the other side, surrounded by the dead and the living alike who would gladly shred her to pieces if they got a hold of her.

Second by second, their chance to break free, to go on and plan their vengeance and end the Saviors for good...that was dwindling.

Daryl knew it. Was willing to sacrifice for it.

"No," she gasped. " _No-_ "

" _Eugene_!" Daryl shouted, and suddenly Eugene's hands were around her arms, dragging her back, tugging her toward the gate.

Saviors followed, hot on their heels, but Eugene weaved in and out of the invading walkers, stopping only briefly to grab the bags they'd dropped in the attack. A few guns fired after them, but they tumbled through such a thick sea of the dead that the bullets never hit their mark.

Then they were through the gate, and the woods greeted them with a sigh like reunited lovers, but she felt no relief.

All she felt was the darkness as it wrapped them up, and the full moon burning up its post in the sky, a silent witness to all they had done.


	28. Oblivion

Alright, guys, here is the final chapter of this installment. The title is "Oblivion" by M83, which I would highly recommend listening to. Not only is it life-changing, but it is also one of the songs that inspired this whole story- kind of weird, I guess, but this chapter was the first scene I ever pictured before I even started writing this. Anyway, thank you guys for your continued reviews and support, I truly, truly hope that you will join me for the final installment, which I plan to post very soon. Much love to you all and let me know what you think.

28\. Epilogue: Oblivion

Deeper into the forest they ran, two shadows flitting through the mottle of darkness and moonlight enshrouding them. Eugene's hand in hers was warm and firm, pulling her forward, refusing to stop.

But she wanted to stop.

She wanted to sink right into the fucking ground.

They'd left Daryl.

She'd promised him they'd stay together, fight together or die together, and now...

They'd left Daryl. They'd left Daryl. They'd

"Keep going," Eugene urged and it was only then that she realized she'd slowed to a dazed stumble. Breathing heavily around the lump in her throat, the burning in her chest, she came to a complete halt.

She pressed her hands to her knees as the sobs doubled her over.

"We left him."

Tears glistened on Eugene's face, but his gaze was steady. Strong. For her.

"I know," he whispered. Like it hurt too much to say any louder. "We will get him back, I assure you. But we have to run now. Can you?"

For him. For him she could run. She could do what she had to.

She had to. She had to.

Lights flared behind them, and the rumble of motorcycles lancing through the trees. The Saviors were not giving up so easily.

Eugene tugged her forward again, darting to the side in an attempt to angle away from the pursuit.

But the headlights had already illuminated them, and their pursuers changed course as well.

Too quick, the Saviors closed in. Gaining on them. No matter how many complicated twists and turns she and Eugene took through the undergrowth, they weren't faster than motorcycles.

Hopelessness plunged Mason's heart into a deep well, a free fall that left her feeling dizzy.

Negan wasn't going to let them go. Not after everything they'd done. She should've known. She should've

No.

Abruptly she skidded to a halt.

 _No._

She would not be taken back to that place. She would not be taken at all.

When she went back, it was going to be on her terms.

And just like that, a spark blazed to life in her belly.

"Mason?" Eugene whispered, his brow pinched with worry. Tugging him with her, she ducked behind a tree.

"Rifle," she murmured.

Frowning, Eugene dug one out of his gun bag and handed it to her. She leaned around their hiding place, weapon ready but out of sight as the closest motorcycle approached. Only when it was a few yards away did she lift the gun and take aim.

It took one shot to the front tire. Suddenly the bike was careening out of control, the Savior on board flipping over the handlebars and skidding across the forest floor.

Mason took off like a bullet herself, lunging for the man before he'd even stopped tumbling. She hit hard. Their bodies crashed together and rolled into a tree.

She didn't give the man a moment to recover. That spark was growing swiftly, eating a path through her bloodstream, her bones, her ragged breath. Dropping the gun, she grabbed the man by his hair and slammed his face into the tree. Once. Twice. Again.

Blood sprayed. The bones in his face cracked, the skin splitting open until there was nothing left but a red mess.

And something in her snapped.

She screamed for Daryl.

She screamed for Eugene.

She screamed for Alexandria and AJ and Sadie and Sherry, and she screamed for herself.

For every inch of her she'd given away in that place, to those people. For every bit of her that struggled to breathe, to feel the warmth of daylight, to excite in the gift of breathing.

She didn't stop- the screaming or the bludgeoning- when the man was dead. She only stopped when Eugene touched her shoulder and said her name.

When she looked at him, the strength of her love for him cleaved through her chest.

Because he was looking back at her, not as though she were a monster, not as though she were some abominable _thing_ , but as though he understood.

As though she were something _worth_ understanding.

She was ravaged and raw and covered in someone else's blood, and still he loved her. Fiercely.

Yes, she could keeping going for him.

She noticed then that while the fire had consumed her, Eugene had covered her ass. All the other bikers- five in total- were dead, though from their proximity Mason guessed it had been a photo finish. Maybe she had been stupid to risk their lives the way she had, but she didn't think the alternative would've looked so rosy, either.

Besides, she had needed to stoke her fire.

"We need to keep moving," Eugene said. "We need to reach Alexandria before they do."

Mason's stomach knotted with fresh anxiety. It would be just like Negan to punish Alexandria for this.

Just like he was likely punishing Daryl-

She clenched her teeth together, hard enough that her jaw ached.

Tonight had turned into a clusterfuck. They'd thought they were prepared, but they had wagered everything on the strength of four people against the obsidian weight of hundreds.

Her mind surged wildly, searching every minute detail, wondering what could have gone differently. If they hadn't had to drop the gun bags in the ambush, if they hadn't used up their bullets in the gunfight, if Negan hadn't grabbed her, if Simon hadn't attacked Eugene...

How many bullets had they spent trying to escape? How many casings that they were never getting back?

There was too much. It was all too much. She was an aneurysm waiting to rupture, she was going to fucking lose it-

"May," Eugene murmured. "Stay with me."

Right. Right. Stay. She breathed in and out, but the action felt like a dog straining at a leash. Savage, rabid as a raging fire, aching to break free. Aching for chaos.

"If they-"

But Eugene cut off at the blinding flash of headlights, brighter than those of the motorcycles and focused directly on them. It came from a truck, a dark beast with Saviors perched in the back, all of them heavily-armed and clad in thick leather.

The motorcycles had been a cover, she realized. A cover so that they wouldn't hear the truck's approach. But why stop? Why not just mow them down?

Eugene grabbed her hand but she resisted. "Wait," she hissed.

He opened his mouth to protest, but Simon's voice axed through the woods. His lean shadow stepped out of the truck, bouncing something casually in his arms.

"Mason and Eugene!" he hollered. "Consider this your death sentence."

With that, he tossed whatever was in his arms. And as it rolled toward her across the forest floor, Mason's stomach turned over so violently she had to swallow back vomit.

AJ's head, sawed off raggedly just beneath the chin, came to rest a foot away. Nose broken, ears cut off. Eyes gleaming sightlessly under the cold, cold sky.

 _I'll see you on the other side,_ he'd said.

" _NO_!" Mason screamed, lunging forward as a thunderclap of rage shook her down. But Eugene wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back, out of the way just seconds before the Saviors began shooting.

Shards of bark cut their faces as the trees caught bullets intended for them. Eugene shielded her for a moment before pushing her forward. Tears blurred her vision. Her whole body felt unbearably hot, like she was nothing but a cinder. The air whistled roughly through her clenched teeth.

The truck roared to life the moment they took off running. It dodged between the trees after them, the headlights zigzagging recklessly.

Through the molten stew her thoughts had become, Mason tried to calculate how much ammo they had. Quite a bit- for the two of them. But the whole reason they'd stolen so much was to give it back to Alexandria. If they used it all up trying to escape from these fucknuts...

Seething, half-blind with bloodlust, she hissed, "Bomb arrows."

"I need cover to light it," Eugene replied.

And the Saviors were gaining...

Up ahead, the trees were thinning. They had been herded in the opposite direction from Alexandria, likely by design. It wouldn't allow them any cover, but it might give them an opportunity to double back. They were a few seconds ahead of the truck and still would be once they were out in the open- just enough time to veer back into the woods before the Saviors joined them.

Mason grabbed Eugene's hand, ready to lead him away as soon as they hit the clearing. The woods diminished, then ended, and the full light of the moon struck them, illuminating the clearing.

And the walkers.

Milling about in agitation, like wolves who had lost the scent of a rabbit, there were easily sixty of them, maybe seventy. A few of them had metal rods protruding from their stomachs. A few had broken or missing limbs. They were worse for wear but no less ravenous as they caught the scent of Mason's bleeding leg and turned in her direction.

She and Eugene stopped dead. They drew breath in ragged, horrified unison.

Behind them, the truck parked at the edge of the trees and the Saviors disembarked, guns aimed.

Trapped.

Just like before. Just like always.

"Nowhere to run," Simon taunted. "Give yourselves up now and your last breaths will be quicker than they would be otherwise."

No.

 _No._

She would die. She would die or she would burn them to the ground but she would _not_ go back. She would not let them choose her end.

Her arm brushed Eugene's, their Wolf scars lining up. When he looked at her, his eyes pinched with fear and despair, she felt his thoughts align with hers, too. Briefly, their pinky fingers touched. Delicate as the dream of a kiss.

In unison, they tossed the gun bags into the herd. So the Saviors wouldn't have them, or at least would have to work for them.

Then she drew her fire iron from its sling on her back and he drew the machete from his belt.

Side by side, they raced into the herd.

They arrowed straight inside, thoroughly ensconcing themselves from the shocked gazes of the Saviors. The walkers piled toward them like greedy, swarming ants. The world became a snarling mass of corpses highlighted by the moon. The world became the stench of atrophy, the splatter of stagnant blood.

Mason and Eugene fought back to back, hollowing out a tiny pocket for themselves among the dead.

They moved like a dream. They were celestial, orbiting each other.

She was anger. Fire. She was cremation, set alight by the sacrifices of her friends, by their broken bones and tears.

He was desolation. Ice. He was winter, emptied by the suffering of his family, by their blood and gravestones.

They didn't think about whether or not they might die, because the possibility was too close. Death was imminent. They were only holding it at bay. They were only making the choice.

 _We tell ourselves that_ we _are the walking dead._

Rick's voice came back to her, from so far away, from that barn they took shelter in from the storm. She still saw it perfectly, their struggling campfire, all of them half-starved and drenched from the deluge. Eyes wide with fear and loss and shadows.

 _He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory._

She saw herself being led through the front gate of the Saviors' compound, saw herself wasting away in that cell with Daryl.

 _Every day he woke up, told himself, "Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war."_

She saw herself saying yes to Negan, felt herself shut down at the first touch of his devouring hands, tasted cigar smoke and cinnamon.

 _That's the trick of it, I think._

She saw herself fighting Eugene in the hallway. She saw him with his hair cut off, eyes like water to drown men by.

 _We do what we need to do_

She saw them passing notes to each other. She heard the song she played for Eugene. She heard the songs she sung to Daryl.

 _and_ then _we get to live._

The walkers kept coming, but every one was falling at her feet, every one was falling by Eugene's blade.

And they weren't alone.

It was shadows and moonlight, but it was also Abraham and Glenn, fighting at her side. It was Lori and Tyreese, Merle and Noah. It was Beth in her pretty yellow shirt.

It was all of them, all of the people she'd lost. Just like they'd come to her in the battle for Alexandria, just like they had in her dreams.

The spirits surrounded her. The dead crashed against her like waves, showering blood into the air. Her fire iron glinted onyx under the burning moon.

At some point she glimpsed through the flickering crowd that Simon and his men had gone, though she processed this distantly. Like her mind had detached from her body. There was only the fire, and her muscles moving, and the places where her body touched Eugene's.

Exhaustion dragged at her, but that felt distant, too. Her legs shook but she was worlds away from collapsing. She was surrounded by spirits, she was surrounded by the dead. She was a wild ember burning into the night.

And then

and then

 _And then after a few years of pretending he was dead_

there were no walkers left.

 _he made it out alive._

It took her a moment to realize this, and then another to process it.

She pivoted in a circle with her iron raised, but the bodies piled around them didn't move.

They had made it.

They had _made it_.

Covered in blood, heaving for breath, she turned to Eugene to find him as bloodied and breathless as her. The whites of his eyes stood out against the gore slicking his face.

They stared at each other for a long time, too shocked to move. Above, the moon melted the infinite black of the night.

Then Eugene reached out to touch her face, and when he said her name- just one, broken rasp- her strength finally gave out.

"Eugene," she whispered, clutching his arms to keep herself upright. He grabbed her arms, too, and they leaned against each other, holding each other up.

Each of them the only strength the other had left.

~m~

When they left the clearing, it was in their Saviors uniforms.

Simon and the others hadn't thought them capable of surviving the herd, but that didn't mean they weren't going to be thorough.

After confirming that neither of them had been bitten, Eugene and Mason found walkers close enough to their size and stature that their old clothes would fit and dressed them up like dolls. And when these walkers were properly outfitted, they dismantled them. Cut off their limbs and gutted them to make it look as though they'd been torn apart and eaten.

That was what the Saviors would find if they went looking for their escapees. Corpses.

Mason and Eugene walked back into those woods dressed all in black. Dressed for war. And as they returned to that darkness, left behind the encompassing light of the moon, she felt a strange pain in the very core of her. As though some essential part of her had snagged on something in the clearing, and walking away tore her right open.

Only a few hours ago, she'd been standing in her apartment, reminding herself that she was still alive. That she was going to make it out alive.

But now here she was, limping through the dark in the outfit of her enemies, while the clothes she'd worn the night all this had started... Those clothes belonged to a carcass.

It was not her body she was leaving behind, but that didn't matter.

The part of her she'd sworn so adamantly had survived that night, and every night after...

That part of her was gone. It had been gone for a long time, and she just hadn't wanted to admit it.

They were going to continue on, her and Eugene. They were soldiers now. She didn't think it was in either of them anymore to quit. But she was kidding herself if she thought the movement of her lungs was anything more than cursory. She had survived only physically.

 _We are the walking dead,_ she thought, adjusting the strap of the gun bag on her shoulder. Eugene kept a steady pace at her side, his eyes fixed grimly on the path ahead.

They were still breathing. That was about it.

They had not made it out alive at all.

Concluded in WINDOWS...


End file.
